Antarctic Termite

Candlewick [CLOSED]

Observatory.
A sliver of good fortune had positioned Innocent beside the brasswork-bearing table in the same direction that the floor swung, giving him something to hold on to. Though his feet slipped out sideways between the table legs, he caught himself at a kneel and braced against the floor. There he stayed a few seconds, head spinning, not sure if the floor was stable of if they would all keep tipping sideways until they fell through the roof, or perhaps through the roof and up into Heaven. Sidwell's dreams hadn't prepared his expectations well for a place so surreal.

Standing up to the complaints and questions of his fellow dead, he readjusted his hat silently, feeling numb. Perhaps I have run through my stock of shock, he thought, bringing down his hand to find a wisp of silver-grey resting on it in perfect, contagious calm. ...And for what sin did you need to fall from grace, little angel? The insect avoided the question, flitting back upwards and onto the brim of Sidwell's hat where so many others had rested in the past.

A sound of knocking wood tugged his attention back to the room. Zosime had put her attention back to the pillar, but Christopher was tapping on the floor like a door. Listening in as closely as he could, Sidwell could hear what Christopher had picked up on before him, though of course, he did not recognise the voices. Many die and few go straight up, so it's a small wonder that the grave is crowded, he explained to himself, but did not stoop down to listen to the floor. The voices could wait until he found their owners, wherever they were.

Innocent had only explored part of the room around the pillar, and with two of the other three wakeful lost in their own worlds of exploration (The boy still seemed to be fiddling with his dull black jewellery; The poor fellow was likely stunned by shock), he thought it appropriate to follow suit. The books in the walls were, as Christopher had shown to his frustration, adjoined to their shelves, and to try and remove them himself when Christopher had already tried felt like it would be a slight against all his effort. Besides, there was an odd, shifty quality to the vines that he didn't like, as if they were crawling around when they knew he wasn't watching. Sidwell left them be and continued to the far side of the pillar, where a door waited for him. He knocked, to no reply other than the snapping of some leaves on the wood, which smelled familiarly of strawberries.

Facing the pillar again to address the others, perhaps ask their thoughts on opening this door, Innocent's eye caught on a gleam in the dark on the top of the pillar device. The shape was too small and distant to make out easily until it moved, and Sidwell squinted at it. A little tailed animal, perhaps a rat, glinting like the flutterby on his hat and just as still. He let go of the doorknob he didn't realise he'd been holding, but the animal was too far to reach, and Sidwell was not a cat, that he could climb up and look for it. Still distracted, he put his hand back on the doorknob, neglecting to use Latin when he stated that "...I am going to open this door and see what's outside."

The door opened with more of a wooden creak than a hinged metal one, and dull light shone in, dazzling the night-eyes he'd been using since he awoke. The scene was a mangle of conflicting elements. The leaves and vines in his awakening room were a shadow of what he saw here. The ground was almost completely overgrown with roots, and trees were rising. This wasn't a forest, though, for at the edges of it all was a railing, and beyond that railing, seething grey. It took landlocked Sidwell several seconds to recognise the movement as water, unholy amounts of water that stank of salt and mysteries.

"Et dedit mare mortuos qui in eo eran." And the sea gave up the dead that were in it. From the Apocalypse of Saint John, from the very end of life and the Good Book. Sidwell didn't take his eyes from the water as he walked down to it, nearly tripped by the stairs between the deck and the domed observatory. His hands clutched the railing and he watched the sea, unafraid of the mute idiot mass of water crawling below him. He was dead, and had nothing to fear from this natural world.

The sound of tears didn't reach him for quite some time. Innocent turned his head without averting his stare from the water until he caught sight of a human figure in the periphery of his gaze. His rapture broke and his tense body slackened back into small, humble Sidwell. The woman was kneeling in front of a fox, talking in distress, mourning her lost child to it. “...Soso sorry, baby... I didn't mean to get you killed. I'm so sorry...”

Wavering, he stepped a little closer and spoke, unsure of exactly what he was interrupting. "Forgiveness comes to all good souls," he offered, trying to compensate for the regret the woman was clearly showing. No doubt this was the sin which she rests in Purgatory to pay off.

Candlewick [CLOSED]

Sidwell's on his way, just needs a bit of time to haul his fat ass over

Masagera: A Deep Sea Fantasy Adventure (Mer people, and other fantasy deep sea races abound)

Upper body sketches of Ceeln, model one. In accordance with Guild rules, I censored the necessities with bits of red bean. I got bored after about eight fins.

Speaking of the scroll ke's holding, I slipped up when I described Ceeln as both literate and partially blind, since ke has to read somehow. The most likely method is that Ceeln can feel scratches on a surface with kir fingers or tentacles, which should be a really common method of inscription anyway because most inks will probably dissolve in water. Ceeln can possibly read inked texts by holding them close to kir face with a strong enough backlight and a bold enough script.

Parasyte: The Maxim

The translation of the final episode was uploaded today. I haven't read the manga but I enjoyed the anime adaptation thoroughly.

For those who aren't in the know, Parasyte was a manga some twentyish years ago about sentient parasitic organisms that live in human hosts, controlling their bodies and consuming other humans. The protagonist is a teenager whose parasite failed to mature in his head, instead replacing his hand and developing a symbiosis there. It's a mildly philosophical exploration of human motives and our relationship with other species. It might not be groundbreaking anymore, but hearsay tells me that it was a newer, popular idea when it was first written.

Did anyone else watch or read it? What were your opinions of the themes and ending?

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

Caesar's fish boobs.

The Dirt Mound

Actually, four characters per post sounds like a good idea.

Twitch was my second attempt to write a video game character into a sheet. The LoL lore isn't usually great, but damn, do I like this rat.

Who let all these plants survive?

Name: Twitch.

Universe: League of Legends.

Appearance: As quoted by an NPC, "IT LOOKED LIKE A GIANT GODSDAMN RAT! ...WITH A CROSSBOW! [...] YOU'RE NOT LISTENING! IT'S A HOMICIDAL, PSYCHOPATHIC, GIANT FREAKING RAT! IN A WAISTCOAT!" In-game art can be seen here. You can peruse an animated model of his creepy wiggling here.

Personality: Mocking, rude and gross. Twitch cares little for anyone but himself and laughs regularly at petty jokes and grievances. A kind of vaguely malicious whimsy accompanies most of his interactions. Twitch is particularly selfish concerning possessions, nicking and hoarding anything he fancies and quite resistant to having it taken away, although left to his own devices Twitch is liable to grow bored of his trinkets and abandon them. The taking or damaging of his alchemical projects tend to illicit a similar but more violent reaction. Spontaneous bursts of paranoia sometimes lower his mood into something resembling aggression, but his suspicion of others is usually quite subdued. Being shamelessly disgusting is Twitch's full-time occupation, and he takes quite some pride in activities like collecting toenails and licking various objects. Although he is completely fearless of disease and poisoning, Twitch is disdainful of sunlight, plants and anything clean. Accustomed to teamwork from his employment in the League of Legends under the Council of Zaun, Twitch has in recent years become more open to the idea of allying with others for his own benefit.

Skills: Twitch is an accomplished sneak. Very flexible and quite strong, he can maneuver quickly and silently through cramped, dark, cold, or otherwise hostile spaces, and disassemble his crossbow to follow. Climbing, swimming and hopping are all skills he uses to get around. The rat does need to be careful of giving his presence away to his more alert victims through his smell, however, and his size lends itself to poor stamina. Once he reveals his presence, usually with exclamations of glee, Twitch proves himself a formidable marksman, specialising in close, crowded, hectic skirmishes. Though his eyesight and chosen weapon are poor for distanced sniping, he supplements them with keen hearing and smell in short range. Twitch's body is a deliberate Petri dish of every kind of parasite and pestilence. While most of these don't last long outside of the virulent hive of Twitch's body, he has no hesitations about weaponising this trait, using his bodily fluids to encourage infection; Any wound he has scratched, spit or sneezed in should be very carefully cleaned to prevent gangrene. On a related note, Twitch is a peculiarly talented alchemist of organic substances, improvising dubiously functional fluids from any materials he may find.

Brief Bio: Zaun is a city where magic and technology run unrestrained by law and ethics, where strange people hiding under thick smog produce stranger creations, in purpose or by accident. Twitch represents a case of the latter. Zaun's labyrinthine streets overlay an even more grimly mysterious world of tunnels and pipes. The collective runoff from rampant experimentation pools in the sewers, and at some point in the past a rat suffered a scientifically unprecedented mutation somewhere in the depths. Whether Twitch is this rat or its offspring is unknown, but there is no creature quite like him in all of Valoran*. As Twitch grew in size and intelligence in the drainways, he claimed Zaun's underground as his territory, constructing hovels and makeshift laboratories in the pipes. Twitch became the inspiration for a kind of folktale among those who could find work no-where else but the pipes; A figment of the imagination to be feared when alone in the dark. The passing years saw Twitch become bolder and more ambitious, culminating in an event in which he ransacked a chemical laboratory for pumping large quantities of waste out of the sewers. Its personnel were killed and its structure damaged until it collapsed along with the tunnels riddling its foundations. Finally on the map of Zaun's dysfunctional law enforcement, Twitch chose to make his existence uncharacteristically official when he offered his destructive potential to the ruling powers of Zaun, who gladly turned a blind eye to his murders in exchange for a new political tool to use in the Fields of Justice- A collection of arenas within which champions fought to represent factions as opposed to allowing open war. Twitch had his own ulterior motives- With the support he gained from the Council of Zaun, he intended to replicate the circumstances of his own mysterious creation.
Chemical oddities, however, are not the only failed experiments to occur in Zaun. Unregulated magic is a considerable threat to public safety, and the no amount of science can perfectly predict the reactions of Valoran's unstable magic to an experiment. Twitch had no way to see in advance the dimensional landslip that caught Zaun in its grasp and dragged it kicking and screaming down into Crossover City, scattering many of its inhabitants. Far separated from his projects and with no knowledge of where he was, Twitch has no choice but to find assistance from other stranded individuals in returning to his home.

Equipment: A crossbow of fine craftsmanship but visible wear. A quiver containing 17 barbed bolts. A second quiver containing 6 larger, custom bolts designed to fly with the speed and range required to pierce a victim and deliver a potent localised dose of flesh-rotting miasma into the muscle surrounding a wound; These bolts are not reusable and require formidable skill to produce. 2 glass flasks of an adhesive fluid with a deeply nauseating stench, designed for throwing at a fleeing target; Given a bottle and sufficient time to gather ingredients, brew and ferment, Twitch can produce these himself. A pair of goggles to protect his eyes from damage and sunlight. A waistcoat with a handful of 'ingredients' jumbled messily in its pockets. A romance novel and crayon for making crude edits to said romance novel. An extended family of lice which, like all his other parasites, Twitch is on very good terms with.

Others: In-game and prior to the roleplay, Twitch's crossbow was once fitted with a vial which tips fired bolts with whatever liquid he could find to put in it. This mechanism is now broken; however, if Twitch can find a well-equiped bowyer and overcome his paranoia to trust them with his precious weapon, it can be repaired.

*Don't tell Rammus we said that, though. Or Rengar, or Alistar, or Renekton or Warwick or Volibear or the rest of the rather sizable proportion of the League of Legends playable character list that are sapient animals.

I think the only things to note here are that Twitch is not an antagonist; He won't get affection from other characters but he's smart enough not to turn on them, or abandon them while he remains stranded. The six poisoned bolts are there to last him the entire roleplay, so he won't be using them outside of boss fights or if he gets himself into an extremely tight spot. As for alchemy, its main application might be to grudgingly prevent infection in an ally or produce something like bait or fuel.

Another dragon, intended for use on Flight Rising. Less interesting than Nur.

Poggle

Dragon Image

Without Apparel

Name: Poggle (the Lesser).

Age: Probably early thirties, human equivalent.

Gender/ Pronouns: Her Majesty the Queen She, her.

Sexuality: Detailed Explanation.

History:
The most defining aspect of Poggle's development was dictated before her adoption. Amnion, a disillusioned, surly, fiercely aggressive Mirror, had been gladly ejected from her home clan on the grounds of exploiting her family for personal gain. Her exile was stacked atop the more serious crime of religious blasphemy against the Flamecaller, which warranted her erasure from clan birth records. Though freedom suited Amnion perfectly well for a few hours, she possessed enough guile to know that her life in the wider dragon society was over- With neither name nor possessions, no reputable clan would accept her. She was condemned to choose between helpless poverty and self-exaltation to a deity she had personally slandered. Neither path suited her.
Acting with a hasty scheme in mind, Amnion sought among the crowded and ill-administered clans of the Ashfall, luring a submissive, forgotten young dragon into destroying his own birth record and eloping with her into the unknown. She struck lucky. Between Amnion and the meek but surprisingly efficient Sandgroper, a chaotic and morally dubious episode of siphoning in young, rogue and slated-for-exaltation dragons could take place, swelling the population of a new, illegitimate clan.
Amnion survived by reappropriating her deleted history into the start of a new bloodline as a progenitor, giving a handful of unsavoury dragons a home in the process. When the clan began to stabilise into a united entity, she finally caved in to cultural pressure and allowed the exaltation of one of her strongest clanmates, a Guardian named Poggle, as a thank offering to the Flamecaller. With a population still abnormally small, she bitterly regretted the decision. The next hatchling that came into Amnion's hands immediately took on the name of the Guardian to cover the loss in her own mind. In a wilful lash of spite and frustration, Amnion titled the replacement hatchling Poggle 'the lesser'.
Enter the Ridgeback fledgeling who had been sent north from the Southern Icefield to find a name and a home. The new Poggle had spent her first days in a clan of glamorous tradition which had not prepared her for Amnion. The matriarch's shame of exaltation ran counter to what she had been taught, and the origin of the name she'd been given left her to grow up feeling deeply vulnerable, unwanted but to plug the gap left by another. With an intense desire to assert herself as her own individual, she decided to take the name and bend it to her will, making it something of her own, not the harsh joke of another dragon. To this extent Poggle matured making every effort to take on an identity to retaliate against all Amnion stood for. She worshipped all eleven gods and made idols of them, carrying impractical trinkets and jewellery, took to wearing the cowl of a mystic and embraced every stereotype that came with it. She grafted a bulb to her skull to cast a dramatic light on her face. She moulded herself to be austere and coldly courteous.
Though Amnion has long since forgotten her original grudge, Poggle's entire identity was and is constructed by the antagonism she strains to live up to. When the opportunity came to return south to win glory for the clan in the name of the gods, Poggle the Lesser shoved her misgivings aside and seized at the most extreme manifestation of the character she had made herself become.

Personality:
Poggle's character is defined by the archetype which she has copied for so long. She talks only as much as she needs to, turning a polite but cold exterior to most dragons, and bottles up her anger and fear to stand calm and brazen in the face of opposition. Self-discipline has taught her how to be suitably submissive in the face of authority. Confident that she knows the meaning of friendship and has numerous friends, Poggle's reluctance and frustration towards having fun suggests that she lost something in translation.
However, Poggle's personality is ultimately artificial. Though she's long since forgotten her identity prior to her name day, some situations still make her deeply uncomfortable for reasons she doesn't know, such as watching hatchlings at play, couples in love, or seeing something that makes her giggle. These episodes of insecurity often lead to Poggle tearing up or reverting to childish nervous impulses like scratching in the ground with her toes or playing with her bulb in her mouth, but sometimes end in hours of anxiety or confused panic, often followed by self-discipline and further hardened determination.

Inventory:
(Probably should include other stuff like rope and a compass, but this is just what I had in my hoard at the time. It's already image heavy enough as is. Whoops.)

Poggle's general wear. The cowl is somewhat helpful in keeping windblown snow (or in her home clan, ash) from her eyes and lowering the chance of snow blindness, but is mostly worn as a trademark of her assumed identity. Poggle's keratinous skin growths (Crackle) have the benefit of hardening her feet into fearsome kicking weapons, but leave her ankles vulnerable; Thick leather spats braced with metal help compensate. Her tailwear is mostly practical, as the wrap adds valuable storage space for fragile items which can stay relatively safe even while tackling an opponent face-on. The teal glass bauble is lit from within by Firestarters, and keeps them separate from flammable goods.

Exploring inland with a coastal diet is a terrible idea for the underprepared. The fish is salted to last, though the convenient Cauranian weather makes it a natural refrigerator anyway. Tied into a net and carried on her wing shoulders.

Keeping accurate records is vital for an explorer. Carried in her cowl.

Useful if the expedition becomes separated. Useful for getting attention in other circumstances too. Carried on the forearm.

A simple but fun character based on Aztec folklore.

Star Spirit

Name: Malinal Teotalca.

Gender: Female.

Age: 16.

Race: Tzitzimitl, plural tzitzimimeh, a species from Aztec folklore. The tzitzimimeh are a humanoid, all-female race, most of which make their home in Tamoanchan, a utopia among the stars. During a solar eclipse or the end of the seasonal year they are most likely to appear on Earth, as harbingers of cosmic change and renewal. They have a strong association with safe childbirth, though their relationship with humans can be a little strained- Many tzitzimimeh are fierce, and may eat disrespectful humans. Tzitzimimeh look rather like grey-skinned humanoids with taut, skeletal faces, clawed limbs, and most strangely, functional blue eyes adorning their joints and vertebrae. They are ruled by their collective mother Itzpapalotl, once a mortal noblewoman who died in childbirth and was deified as a winged arch-tzitzimitl.

Appearance: Malinal is very young for a tzitzimitl, and as such, still appears pretty much human. She is tall but not lanky- about 1.8 meters- with light brown skin just starting to take on a grey tone, and jagged dark hair around her shoulders. Malinal's face is not yet skull-like, but does appear rather bonier than the rest of her body, and she has a bit of trouble closing her lips over her teeth. Similarly, her hands are still human in shape, but quite large and strong, while her feet closely resemble that of a flightless bird, like a cassowary, and are equipped with a long spur on the innermost toe. Atrophied black wing nubs are embedded in her shoulder blades. Her most noticeable non-human trait is the blue eyes resting one each in her shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees and ankles, and down her spine. These are tough enough to survive daily knocks and bumps, but squint or close in bright sunlight, so she often steps outside with a parasol or long sleeves and leggings.

Personality: Young, cocky and confident, nothing can get Malinal down. She is energetic and social and treats everyone like a buddy, even her elders, and doesn't so much have trouble following rules as she loves the thrill of breaking them. Always up for a laugh, Malinal rarely takes the world seriously, and considers snarky remarks a form of bonding. Gifted with a more than healthy sense of irony and an actor's touch, she is known to express herself with exaggerated gestures. Part of this behaviour is driven by growing necessity- As Malinal's facial tissue slowly atrophies into its skull-like adult form, facial expressions become more difficult to display, which is part of the reason why she looks so smug all the time.

Quirks: Malinal has a few preferences common to most tzitzimimeh- She loves skirts, hair accessories, skull-and-crossbones designs, moths and deer. There's some lovely art of tzitzimimeh around the internet and the pic I took most inspiration from was here. Contains a topless demon lady.

A very simple 'nation' for a nation roleplay that didn't take off. Based on a book I read about vines and ruins.

Mycelia

Full Name of Nation: [As the species acts by reflex and hormonal signals, there is no official vocal name.]

Common Name: Mycelia. Colloquially, 'fuzz'.

Government Type: None.

Demonym: Mycelian or fuzzy.

Dominant Species: Fuzz is a connected body of fungal tissue, mostly soft and fibrous like mould, but capable of interlocking into hard or elastic shapes, such as tubes. Fuzz exists only to expand by decomposing any organic matter it encounters, out-competing native species and eventually driving them to extinction. When an area of fuzz has exhausted its nourishment and is not contributing to the continued growth at the periphery, it goes dormant and eventually dies.

Technological Level: Adaptive. The growth reappropriates nearby objects into its architecture but manufactures no objects of its own accord. Fuzz exposed to more complex stimulus will reuse or respond to it in more complex ways. Fuzz has no memory- When stimulus is removed, it will very gradually revert to the state it was in without that stimulus, and will have to be re-exposed in order to 'learn' again. However, complex growths with positive results will slowly spread through the mass provided that form of growth has the tools required to function. Living creatures can be stimuli. For example, idle fuzz in a moist environment may culture algae or small plants symbiotically to produce nutrients for itself, while coastal fuzz exposed to shellfish may reuse nearby sources of calcium to produce its own covering.

Cultural Traits: Uniformity, unsustainable consumption, impassiveness, grey colour.

Language: None. Fuzz cannot speak (derp) or be taught to write. It may try to use basic symbols it is exposed to, but does not consciously understand their meaning.

Population: An irregular growth of various density, ten kilometres long from furthest end to furthest end. Growth speed depends on the availability of organic matter and the climate. There is only one growth of fuzz- Attempts to 'plant' a sample outside of the main body will always fail.

History: The mycelia was for untold aeons locked away in a subterranean chamber with no access to the surface. A series of landslips and the erosion of several hundred years exposed it to the surface, where it began to grow.

Military Type: Currently the best defences fuzz has are smooth vertical walls strutted by sticks and mycelium and imbedded with stones, a few metres tall at their highest. These develop at the periphery of the mycelium where it has been actively and persistently damaged, usually over the course of a few weeks.

Population in Military: <1%.

The Dirt Mound

Edit form got long so I'm splitting it into Pokemon and non-Pokemon characters.

crunch nom nom crunch

The Judge

*Name: Pablo. He introduces himself as the Judge without exception, for reasons not openly stated.

*Universe: OFF

*Appearance: A pure white cat with a large head, surreal grin and rather stiff hind legs.
Concept art here, in-game sprite art here, descriptive fanart here.

*Personality: Polite and dignified. The Judge is a knowledgeable, discerning individual who gladly interacts with others with a touch of wit and drama. Although the Judge is quite wordy, his attitude is not condescending, and treats others as equals. That said, the Judge can be authoritative when the situation requires it. The Judge is honest in what he says to or concerning himself or others, although not typically open about his own origins. Notably, Pablo is still grieving over the death of his brother and regrets the part he played in the destruction of his home universe, and his fear of repeating past mistakes may influence his decisions.

*Powers/Skills: The Judge can exert a psychic influence on an opponent's body. This induces brief surges of disabilities such as paralysis and blindness, or more direct damage by rupturing blood vessels to cause internal bleeding.
The Judge's own body is that of an arthritic cat, not capable of significant harm. On paper, anyway. We all know how much damage a household cat can do in practice.
Within the single warehouse of his own Zone 0, the Judge has been seen teleporting and may have possessed powers similar to the Guardians of other Zones, but these are localised to a building far away, granted by a being long dead.

*Brief Bio: The Judge is a cat who lived in a warehouse in a world of four surreal areas named Zones. An entity called the Batter turned up at the warehouse claiming to be a messiah, and the Judge taught him some skills before sending him on his way. The Batter first entered Zone 1, where he began his self-appointed task of destroying the spectres harassing the humanoid Elsen living there. After encountering Dedan, Guardian of Zone 1, the Batter observed him exploiting the Elsen's fear and paranoia, and eventually killed him. The death of Dedan led to Zone 1 collapsing into a colourless, lifeless world, and the Batter continued to Zone 2.

The entity claiming to be Zone 2's Guardian was identified by the wandering Judge as Valerie, his feline brother. Valerie acted strangely and violently towards the Elsen, causing the Judge considerable confusion and distress. During a showdown, the true Guardian of Zone 2, a massive phoenix-like creature named Japhet, emerged from Valerie's body where he'd been hiding, killing him. The Batter slew Japhet in turn, and Zone 2 followed the same path as Zone 1. The Judge was deeply shocked by this, and remained in Zone 2 for some time, grieving.

Meanwhile, the Batter continued to kill the Guardian of Zone 3 before entering a space called the Room, where the Queen of the Zones resided. The Batter killed both her and a mysterious child whose death had the same nullifying effect on the Room itself. Following this murder, the Judge finally reappeared to confront the Batter, condemning his rampage and regretting that he had allowed it to take place. In one ending of the game, the Batter killed Pablo, then extinguished the light illuminating the empty Zones forever. In the other, the Judge overcame the Batter, killing him at the price of spending the rest of his days in a bleached, empty world.

Until that world collided with Crossover City.

*Equipment: Bad memories and a considerable vocabulary.

*Others: As a point of interest, he is known to have owned a basement full of narcotic sugar, possibly intended for personal use. Like everything else in OFF, though, there are unspoken shenanigans involved.
His final duel with the Batter is accompanied with this theme regardless of perspective. His first, peaceful encounters in Zone 0 are accompanied by this tune.

Nur Asenath was a design for a dragon roleplay, because pretending to be a dragon never really stops being fun. The roleplay never took off but I'm still quite proud of her design, even if the WIP note at the bottom of the sheet was never realised. Maybe especially if.

Nur, the Cave Dweller

Name: Nur Asenath.

Gender: Female.

Dragon Race: Troglobite (Cave-Dwelling) Dragon. Nur belongs to a race with a small population, of which the members are mostly solitary. Maturation and breeding is very slow in this race and violent contact with other races is uncommon, allowing dragons like Nur to live great lengths of time. Troglobite dragons are usually eyeless and albino, observing their surroundings through other senses, often accompanied by magic. The race rests and interacts independently of the day-night cycle, passing into periods of low mental activity from time to time but never fully losing conciousness. Some are better adapted to the surface than others, and the most reclusive Troglobite dragons are easily burned by sunlight, or even bright moonlight. Few Troglobite dragons have flight-capable wings, but there are exceptions, mostly those with bat-like or moth-like tendencies that involve leaving the caverns at night. Troglobite dragons, like all dragons, vary in physiology and magical capabilities, but those that do have acute supernatural strength usually include some form of prescience or extra-sensory perception in their powers. Some are capable of projecting their spirits outside their bodies to see or communicate, or interpret glimpses of the future in dreams.

Age: With no seasons or sun to keep count in the depths, Nur really doesn't know how old she is. By comparing her earliest memories of the surface to known years and extrapolating backwards, however, it can be assumed that her age is somewhere around the 2200 mark- Very old, but younger than many other elders.

Position: Caretaker, although Nur behaves like more of a doorkeeper for the hatchlings. Although they do not often leave the very depths, Nur tracks their movements and keeps tabs on their activities and behaviour, aided by her telepathy, hyper-keen senses and lack of a sleep cycle. She also has an occasional mentoring task in observation and mental fortitude. When she can be bothered, she can also direct telepathic messages between caretakers and hatchlings- But she rarely does. Should the depths be endangered, this will be Nur's task, relaying messages and vital information between defenders due to her own lack of combat prowess.

Physical description: For an elder dragon, Nur is exceedingly small. Although her proportions are very long and slender, she still measures only five meters from snout to tail tip. Her body is very thin and lacks scales, fur or any other covering. Her legs are similarly thin, stilt-like with outwards facing joints and small, clawless webbed hands. Having no purpose for flight, Nur's wing bones are not webbed, and instead form an umbrella of highly elongated finger-like appendages around her body, which are extremely sensitive to touch and vibrations. This spider-like array of appendages has limited movement, but the 'fingers' can retract very quickly if they touch something they don't like, or fold away completely into two grooves on the sides of her body. Nur's skull lacks eyes or structures where eyes could once have fit. Two long, movable, pinkish ears stretch from the back of her head, and four long tendrils extend from her lower jaw, further facilitating her sense of touch. Nur's nostrils are small and snake-like, but she often tastes the air with a dexterous forked tongue, which she uses to manipulate objects in place of her feeble hands. She also has an unnerving tendency to lick things, like other dragons, to inspect their taste. Nur has very small and evenly-spaced teeth, but a fast bite with a dizzying, disorientating venom, her best way of defending herself. This venom can also be breathed as a thin fog, but loses effectiveness in air. Beyond this, her only other remarkable feature is her tail, which is also prehensile and bifurcated into two lengths.

History: Nur, as an Elder, was born from no parents- Her infant form crawled out of a Shrine. She instead took her clan name from the name of the Shrine, which was inscribed with the title 'ASENATH'. She does not know from whence her personal name originates, and assumes that it was intuition.

Asenath-Nur, as she was called for many centuries, was among the last of the dragons to emerge from a Shrine. When the first true Cave Dweller came into the world, the Elder dragons had already made the sky their crown and the sea their mantle and the earth their throne, and had begun to produce offspring which would dominate the planet. The Heart of the World from which the First Shrine had sprung was already almost abandoned, as were the flooded, cold and lightless caverns that waited in limbo between the world's outermost layers and deepest core. Asenath-Nur's own abyssal Shrine was created here, and took the form of a broad and shallow pool in the rock, lined by perfectly formed and polished stone, surrounded by half-formed stone sculptures of unknowable meaning. The walls of the chamber were carved with dancing patterns only observable by touch in the darkness, and the roof curved from the walls and arched downwards over the pool to form a single spike, from which water dripped into the center of the pool.

Asenath-Nur grew slowly, but steadily expanded her range as she matured, until caves extending from the Shrine of Asenath all the way to the very surface were part of what she considered her home. By the time she first encountered natural light and the void of the sky, the dragon was an adult powerful in magic. Asenath-Nur was a telepath, capable of projecting her spirit at great speeds outside of her body, taking in huge quantities of information unaided or entering the minds of other dragons she sensed high above and sharing their vision. In those early days Asenath-Nur's power was at its highest, and she could manipulate thought like clay, reading memories and overriding minds at her whim. By this time the other Elders were not alone, and the first few generations had grown into clans. Long before she emerged from the caves into the surface realm in person (dragon), she had already learned much of the races of above, of their feuds and settlements and growing cultures.

In these days, dragons of other races had begun to find themselves lost in the deeper caverns. Asenath-Nur approached them, conversed with them, and usually guided them home, but stole their memories of how they had entered and left the abyss. Some, however, she took under her spidery wing. Starved of light they became blind, but their senses, and perception beyond senses, began to sharpen. These dragons became the family of Asenath-Nur, the parents of her children, which are now diverse in form. The Elder dragon was, for a time, something nearly godlike, a force which some were drawn to and some repulsed by, known on the surface almost exclusively by her roaming mind, cunning, wise, quick to learn. The few audiences she did host in person on the surface where held under the new moon, when sunlight was weakest, when she could appear with her spouses and growing tribe as a passive but extant power.

It was at this time that her power began to waver. The Cave Dwellers had grown as populous as they would ever be. They no longer needed to unite to consolidate their ownership of the depths, nor did they require the protection of their common ancestor. Free to live in silent near-solitude, the tribe spread through the caverns. Her spouses now scattered far and wide, her children having produced offspring of their own, Asenath-Nur lost relevance to her race. A parent who had grown into a leader dissolved into a figure of history. History became myth and Asenath became Nur, an ancient recluse, who rested for many years in a chamber by her Shrine. Far from an involuntary fall from grace, her solitude suited Nur, whose task, she believed, was complete. Many years passed. The Shrine was forgotten by a race that no longer felt a need to congregate under one symbol, and Nur's power became a memory.

[WIP, done but for a bit saying how she got involved with the hatchling project, and the fact that it's so much longer than it needs to be considering the lack of depth. Ideally the completed history will be condensed into about three paragraphs or so.]

Sidwell is a realisation of a simple idea I've had for some time now, an attempt to play both a religious and an older character.

Sidwell

Name: Innocent Sidwell.

Age: 44.

Appearance: Subtly waning. Innocent retains a head of dark hair, dark eyes and a good height for an adult, but his scalp is beginning to show through and a growing hunch in his back wears down his tallness while his eyes accumulate red mazes. Well veined, sundried skin tell of a long life outdoors. Half a beard populates his jaw. A dull tunic, dusty straw hat, and duller, dustier trousers provide his daily modesty, held together with a rope belt.

Occupation: Beekeeper in a dale just south of Flidais, a temperate, grassy city perched between foothills. Innocent gets by with few visits to Flidais, selling honey, beeswax, animal feed and carvings to whoever might pass his cabin on the way and buying necessities from travelling merchants and nearby farmsfolk. Innocent plays a simple flute, carved and tuned by his own design, but does so poorly.

Personality: Gentle enough to be called kind, but this trait is bred more from meek complacency than empathic feelings. Sidwell is a highly submissive individual, asking little from others and rarely questioning them or the services they require of him unless he feels personally threatened. Although he means only to live and let live, these traits may see him being labelled by some as a sycophant, and by most as a coward. Innocent is religious on his own terms. Terrified of death and hell, he believes that if he avoids human confrontation and keeps his world small and modest, he will avoid sin and be blessed by God, an attitude which has seen him safe thusfar.

History: Innocent Sidwell was born in Flidais and, the youngest son to a mother of eight, was sent to the hill monastery even sooner than most novices. Sidwell entered monasticism as a child already conditioned to avoid the fierce competition of his elder siblings and live in modesty. Although this kept him in the favour of the prior, Innocent's ways changed as he matured. While his earlier compliance was forced by the pressure of his environment, he was now in a community wherein passiveness was self-motivated, and repressed adventurousness began to emerge. The prior tolerated Sidwell's growing cheek for a time, granted that he performed his duties and did not leave the monastery. He was expelled when finally caught in an act of homosexual conduct with another novice. The prior was shocked and betrayed and threatened both Innocent and the other novice with public exposure as they were punished and cast away, but his old love for Sidwell kept him from making true this threat, unknown to Sidwell, who that day was cursed with a terrible fear of exposure, of sin, and of living any less than a pious, modest, and celibate existence.

Fleeing south on foot, Innocent found work as a farmhand for a time before he apprenticed under his predecessor beekeeper of the valley, and has made this his living for three decades.

Ceeln is the nonbinary offspring of internet biology and an experiment in worldbuilding.

Ceeln

Name: Ceeln.

Age:Twelve years of rapid growth. Due to the short lifespan of kir subspecies, Ceeln can expect to live about another decade before reproduction and death.

Gender: Ceeln has no biological sex yet, taking the pronouns ke (s/he), kir (his/her) and kirself. Ceeln will grow internal genitals of both kinds towards the end of kir short lifespan, and will die upon rupturing kir body to release eggs and sperm.

Race: Kirghal, a race descended from segmented worms. Kirghal are not widely distributed, but can be populous in the cities they form part of. Their non-human physiology usually includes a handful of sensory tentacles around their head, fan-like gills, several sets of arms, and a long lower body suited for crawling or living in a tunnelled home for many years, but can vary widely. Kirghal are predominantly some combination of slow, blind, drab, bottom-dwelling and unintelligent (pick about three). Due to this they function as the lowest working class of several Mer cities. Those with a sedentary lifestyle are suited perfectly to menial tasks such as waste disposal (usually by feeding on it), tunneling, and filtering nutrients from plankton or volcanic vents. Intelligent or magical Kirghal may patiently use their bodies to construct living libraries. Fast, mud-crawling Kirghal may be set to use their natural venom and blind hunger to keep a city's border free of pests. Kirghal lucky enough to be born with bright colours and swimming fins may be unquestioning, ornamental servants of upper-class Mer or Tueda.

This form of systematic servitude may be classified as slavery, but the Kirghal are ultimately the benefactors, as without the organisation of the more advanced races they would never achieve civilisation and its benefits. Most Kirghal live slowly and at length, dying upon reproduction. The inherent randomness of spawning inevitably produces some Kirghal with better combinations of traits than the majority, such as Ceeln, who though ke is nearly blind, magically impotent, and in the lowest class of Kirghal by life expectancy, is intelligent, free-swimming, colourful and venomous. These genetically lucky Kirghal are usually adopted into families of Tueda, with whom they share a closer lineage than the other races, and considered of noble birth.

Not all Kirghal are city dwellers. In the far Dark, a Kirghal needs no intelligence to harbour a gruesome appetite.

History: Ceeln's egg was, like hundreds of others, collected by Merfolk during a Kirghal spawn so that shortly after birth ke might be assigned to an employment befitting his genes. Sorted at first into a collection of larvae that appeared to be promising palace handmaids due to their fins and bright colours, ke was one of two who appeared to possess an exceptional genetic composition due to their intelligence, which rejected the simplistic training of other servant-class Kirghal and stood on par with a Merfolk child. A Tueda family, the Nuul, made a bid for the upbringing of both the young Kirghal, which was granted. Although Ceeln and kir sibling Jvan were never allowed to assume the family name, they were raised with the same respect and pride shown to Tueda heirs. As the pair grew, however, it became plain that Ceeln was not a perfect Kirghal, as his development rapidly outsped that of Jvan, marking him as a Kirghal with an abnormally fast childhood and an abnormally short lifespan. Knowing that ke would die many, many decades before Jvan, whom ke loved above all else and considered a younger sibling, Ceeln took on a furious determination to aspire to the Merfolk Senate's few places reserved for intelligent Kirghal, and blaze the trail for Jvan to follow to a much longer rule.

Role: Ceeln's involvement with Tueda nobility has given kir a high education. Ke is literate and versed in scientific and political knowledge, and kir close relationship with the Kirghal working class has given kir an excellent knowledge of the inner industries of the Merfolk Empire. Ceeln is physically competent and has received some training in self-defense in addition to the natural protection granted by kir second set of jaws, which have an enormous bite strength, surprising reach, and venom designed to inflict an intense rush of pain and nausea. More relevant to Ceeln's chosen career, however, is kir elegant and exotic body, which ke uses to help win popular appeal and sometimes forge bonds through seduction. Ceeln is currently on the lookout for military experience and public acclaim to speed his way into the political scene.

Magic: None.

Appearance: I'm still drawing Ceeln, consider this a work in progress, but Ceeln's lower half is based on this animal. Ke has four arms. The upper pair are well-muscled and masculine, resting on a torso with broad shoulders and a full bust. The lower torso is flat-chested, with arms that appear thinner and more feminine. Ceeln's scalp and upper face is a blank, mask-like surface with a handful of sensory tentacles and two expressionless eyespots over a pair of sultry lips and a vicious secondary set of mandibles under his chin.

Other: I... Don't think so? Kirghal are based on Polychaetes. This character probably derives quite a bit from the study of Julius Caesar I undertook for my ancient history assessment yesterday.

Masagera: A Deep Sea Fantasy Adventure (Mer people, and other fantasy deep sea races abound)

Long Worm Dude

Name: Ceeln.

Age: Twelve years of rapid growth. Due to the short lifespan of kir subspecies, Ceeln can expect to live about another decade before reproduction and death.

Gender: Ceeln has no biological sex yet, taking the pronouns ke (s/he), kir (his/her) and kirself. Ceeln will grow internal genitals of both kinds towards the end of kir short lifespan, and will die upon rupturing kir body to release eggs and sperm.

Race: Kirghal, a race descended from segmented worms. Kirghal are not widely distributed, but can be populous in the cities they form part of. Their non-human physiology usually includes a handful of sensory tentacles around their head, fan-like gills, several sets of arms, and a long lower body suited for crawling or living in a tunnelled home for many years, but can vary widely. Kirghal are predominantly some combination of slow, blind, drab, bottom-dwelling and unintelligent (pick about three). Due to this they function as the lowest working class of several Mer cities. Those with a sedentary lifestyle are suited perfectly to menial tasks such as waste disposal (usually by feeding on it), tunneling, and filtering nutrients from plankton or volcanic vents. Intelligent or magical Kirghal may patiently use their bodies to construct living libraries. Fast, mud-crawling Kirghal may be set to use their natural venom and blind hunger to keep a city's border free of pests. Kirghal lucky enough to be born with bright colours and swimming fins may be unquestioning, ornamental servants of upper-class Mer or Tueda.

This form of systematic servitude may be classified as slavery, but the Kirghal are ultimately the benefactors, as without the organisation of the more advanced races they would never achieve civilisation and its benefits. Most Kirghal live slowly and at length, dying upon reproduction. The inherent randomness of spawning inevitably produces some Kirghal with better combinations of traits than the majority, such as Ceeln, who though ke is nearly blind, magically impotent, and in the lowest class of Kirghal by life expectancy, is intelligent, free-swimming, colourful and venomous. These genetically lucky Kirghal are usually adopted into families of Tueda, with whom they share a closer lineage than the other races, and considered of noble birth.

Not all Kirghal are city dwellers. In the far Dark, a Kirghal needs no intelligence to harbour a gruesome appetite.

History: Ceeln's egg was, like hundreds of others, collected by Merfolk during a Kirghal spawn so that shortly after birth ke might be assigned to an employment befitting his genes. Sorted at first into a collection of larvae that appeared to be promising palace handmaids due to their fins and bright colours, ke was one of two who appeared to possess an exceptional genetic composition due to their intelligence, which rejected the simplistic training of other servant-class Kirghal and stood on par with a Merfolk child. A Tueda family, the Nuul, made a bid for the upbringing of both the young Kirghal, which was granted. Although Ceeln and kir sibling Jvan were never allowed to assume the family name, they were raised with the same respect and pride shown to Tueda heirs. As the pair grew, however, it became plain that Ceeln was not a perfect Kirghal, as his development rapidly outsped that of Jvan, marking him as a Kirghal with an abnormally fast childhood and an abnormally short lifespan. Knowing that ke would die many, many decades before Jvan, whom ke loved above all else and considered a younger sibling, Ceeln took on a furious determination to aspire to the Merfolk Senate's few places reserved for intelligent Kirghal, and blaze the trail for Jvan to follow to a much longer rule.

Role: Ceeln's involvement with Tueda nobility has given kir a high education. Ke is literate and versed in scientific and political knowledge, and kir close relationship with the Kirghal working class has given kir an excellent knowledge of the inner industries of the Merfolk Empire. Ceeln is physically competent and has received some training in self-defense in addition to the natural protection granted by kir second set of jaws, which have an enormous bite strength, surprising reach, and venom designed to inflict an intense rush of pain and nausea. More relevant to Ceeln's chosen career, however, is kir elegant and exotic body, which ke uses to help win popular appeal and sometimes forge bonds through seduction. Ceeln is currently on the lookout for military experience and public acclaim to speed his way into the political scene.

Magic: None.

Appearance: I'm still drawing Ceeln, consider this a work in progress, but Ceeln's lower half is based on this animal. Ke has four arms. The upper pair are well-muscled and masculine, resting on a torso with broad shoulders and a full bust. The lower torso is flat-chested, with arms that appear thinner and more feminine. Ceeln's scalp and upper face is a blank, mask-like surface with a handful of sensory tentacles and two expressionless eyespots over a pair of sultry lips and a vicious secondary set of mandibles under his chin.

Other: I... Don't think so? Kirghal are based on Polychaetes. This character probably derives quite a bit from the study of Julius Caesar I undertook for my ancient history assessment yesterday.

Bored spammers help me translate a song.

@Aeonumbra I hope you understand that, for however long this keeps my attention, I fear you. Even if your rendition breaks up a little towards the end.

Bored spammers help me translate a song.

Dear sweet mother of fuck.
How.

@Aeonumbra