I am a million things to a million mortals
Harbinger of death, ambassador of ecstacy, bringer of plagues and all things forsaken and forbidden by saner men.
I am a wise and wily necromancer, I am a thoughtless, bloodthirsty animal. I am a vengeful god, or I am cruel vermin. I am many or I am few, I am civilized or anarchic, I am born or made or risen. I am a rabid man, an unpopular woman, a conspicuous baby, or a mangy coyote.
My teeth are either steel or bone, my flesh is rotten, warm, or incorporeal, my palms are either hairy or leathery. I am a stiff body gone hopping mad, I am a lithe lycanthrope, I am a magnificent bastard with lightning bolts for sideburns, I am a fruit left out in the sun a month too long, a floating head with guts dragging behind it, a tree growing in a battlefield, a woman chopped in half, or an angry German Garden Gnome.
I am a tremendous black man with iron hooks for hands.
I am a spirit, I am a disease, I am an animal, mineral, vegetable, and numerous other things, but there is one more convenient word for me. What is it?