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evolutionsvoid · 3 years

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Whenever I meet other travelers, one of the common questions I get is "Hey, Chlora, I am going to place, what are some cool creatures I should keep an eye out for?" Though I say it is a frequent question, I always enjoy answering it! To hear people excited about seeing new species and strange beasts always makes me happy! So if you are ever traveling to some unfamiliar region and run into me along the way, never hesitate to ask! I am always eager to lend my knowledge and help others experience the majesty of the world! I have been informed, however, that I should give a warning with this offer. Apparently I tend to prattle on for long periods of time whenever I get this question, which some think is a bit much. I honestly don't understand what they are taking about, I am just answering a legitimate inquiry, but nonetheless I bring up this odd point. The reason I am talking about this is because the species I am focusing on here would be on the list for any folk visiting the desert or nearby spiny forests. If you are in the right area, I honestly don't need to focus your attention on locating these creatures, because they are pretty hard to miss! Despite the scaly, plated look, Crystalhorns are indeed mammals. Many are quick to call them reptiles, but if you really look at their frame and gait, you can see they are not. Believe it or not, they are ungulates, who dwell in arid places that possess lots of juicy plants! Of all the desert places, the best for them are spiny forests, as they provide a surplus of such vegetation! Their bodies are well adapted to living in such harsh environments, with their blood and organs specialized in retaining water. They can drink large quantities of water with ease, and then live off of those stores for days on end! Their "scales" also aid in survival, and not just for armor! The first thing to note is that these "scales" are made from a special material that is like keratin and chitin. Honestly, it is kind of a mix of both! These hard growths are not just translucent, but also reflective! They have a distinct shine to them, which causes people to compare them with crystal. The shininess of these plates aid in protection against the sun, as it reflects the harsh rays and helps get rid of some of that heat! They also can withstand the nasty thorns and spikes that are found everywhere in spiny forests, allowing the Crystalhorn to blunder through razor bushes with ease! Underneath those plates is a super thick hide for extra protection, sitting upon beds of stored fat for periods of famine. Wide feet help disperse its bulk so it doesn't sink into the sand, and special eyelids and lashes keep pesky grains from getting into their eyes. They are quite at home in these arid areas, and their sheer size and strength means they have very little to worry about! Due to this armor and their powerful bulk, full grown Crystalhorns have no real predators. I mean, what on earth is going to challenge that? Even if it wasn't for that huge gorgeous horn, you won't find a whole lot of carnivores with the weaponry to pierce that armor! Not to mention it is hard to get a good lock on them, as when the sun hits them they practically explode with light! When annoyed by a gawker or some prowling creature, they will purposefully shift their bulk so that the sun reflects right into the enemy's face. For those who want to appreciate their majesty, a pair of tinted goggles is pretty much a must! This light reflection helps throw off foes, but it is also used for eating! Crystalhorns are herbivorous, feeding on cacti and other succulents. A tough mouth and bony pads help them deal with the mess of needles and thorns, but sometimes a meal is just too irritating to eat! A lot of plants have painful hairs on them that dig into the inside of your mouth or scratch up your throat. To deal with this, the Crystalhorn uses its titular horn in a bizarre and fascinating way! Somehow, the structure of this horn is arranged so that it can take in light and focus it. By aiming and tilting it just right, the beast can focus the sunlight into a hot potent beam! Using the sun just so, it can point this concentrated light and fry the offending plant. In short time, the vegetation will begin to burn, searing off those irritating hairs! Once the top layer is scorched, the Crystalhorn will uses its feet to stomp it out and then feed on the remains. It isn't the most polite way to eat, but it gives them access to more food! It is truly bizarre that these horns are grown in such a way to allow such a thing to happen, but it is a common method for these beasts! They have even been seen rubbing these horns against tree trunks and rocks to help keep it in just the right shape! While this behavior is common, it is one that needs to be taught. Adults have been seen helping youngsters who struggle with using their horns properly, demonstrating for them and prodding their heads so they are at the right angle. When the young use their horns, adults keep close by ,not just for teaching, but to stamp out unintended fires. It makes you wonder if some brush fires have been caused by a bumbling Crystalhorn that scorched something a little too well. With their large size and beautiful crystal "scales," this species is rather popular. I think every zoo I have ever visited have one of these, because how could you not? They have been called the "Jewel of the Desert," which is easy to see when their hide hits the sun just right. There is even a type of greenish crystal out there that has been named after this species! How weird, to be an actual crystal named after something that is pretending to be! This beauty, however, comes at a price. Their crystal horn and "scales" are prized by collectors for their jewel-like qualities. There are many pieces of jewelry and fancy adornments that are made from these plates, carved and shaped to show off their splendor. I am pretty sure I have seen necklaces made from these at every ball or gala I have been forced to attend. To make matters worse, mages and other magic users have found an interest in this species. Their crystalline hide is said to be a valuable material for staffs, staves, wands and catalysts. Even when ground to a powder, it has many uses for potions and spells. Even practitioners of Thericorium use this powder for their paints and tattoos, as a majestic hide of crystal scales is impossible to pass up. With such a huge market, poaching is a massive threat to this species. Toppling one of these beasts and stripping its body of these plates and horn can net a smart seller thousands, so obviously many money-hungry fiends have their sights on them. It is to the point where I hesitate to even tell others good locations to observe Crystalhorns, as that info may reach the wrong ears and that land will be pillaged. I have heard there are efforts to domesticate and sustainably harvest these materials, but I already know this won't work. It takes decades for them to grow to their full potential and the ravenous market won't be so patient. For now, the only hope for this species is the continued effort of locals and conservation groups. They keep an eye out for poachers and take them out before they can cause harm. Even the zoos I mentioned before have started breeding programs to help keep this species alive! And don't worry, fellow reader, I too have done my part! During my studies, I found evidence of poachers in the area and did the responsible thing of reporting them! Well, that was after I "accidentally" knocked a Spire Cactus on top of their hiding place. Honestly, they should have been grateful I was there! I rushed off immediately to find locals so that they could come and help! I am thoughtful like that! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------ Here is a species that was brought up in a previous entry (and was drawn around that time, I am just slow at posting). As one can see, I tried to do a background but then absolutely gave up. Sorry folks, I just couldn't figure it out, so here is what I got.

#rhino #rhinoceros #animal #crystal #monster #creature #art #drawing #mammal

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lisatelramor · 4 years

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Be a Better Me Ch 9

One more left after this!

Chapter 9

“Do you go to school?” Conan asks Kaito.

Kaito, in disguise as a young woman just for the fun of it (and for practice because skills need constant upkeep), smiles. “Of course I go to school.”

“And yet you happen to show on a day that only my school is closed for water damage.” His little kid friends are arguing about something on the other end of the playground. Conan watches them like he’s just waiting for them to remember he exists and drag him into whatever their scheming is. Scheming being the accurate term because Haibara Ai is part of that group and anything that makes her smirk, Kaito has learned, isn’t nearly as fun for the person on the other end of that look.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“There was a heist a week ago.”

“And you kicked a soccer ball at me. That’s hardly communication.”

“You could just show up to Agasa’s.”

Kaito hums. “And how often are you actually there?”

“Okay, fair point. But you could talk to Haibara.”

“You say that like she isn’t terrifying.” Ai had a habit of updating him about what new things she figured out about Kaito’s body—both human and robotic—which hardly endeared her to him. He’d developed a habit of trying to avoid her whenever he actually had to drop in to Agasa’s place because being told in detail how your body replicated synthetic blood from what you ate is not pleasant conversation. Nor was the fact that she’d actually been studying Kaito’s corpse even though he doesn’t want her to. Kaito really doesn’t care how it’s not decomposing or what’s keeping the brain alive; it’s something he doesn’t want to think about.

“Oh, she is terrifying. That’s all part of being her friend.”

“Is she friends with any of you?” Kaito asks because from the bits he’s gotten out of them, Ai is the person who made the poison that changed Conan. And she’s older than Shinichi and Kaito both. He doesn’t know what to make of her, and all the more reason to avoid her.

“Yes,” Conan says. “She cares, and it’s not just guilt. She cares for the kids, and she at least tolerates me.” He smirks back at Ai as she lifts an eyebrow their direction. Conan makes a quick ring around his eye with his finger and thumb and the eyebrow lowers.

“Hey. Way to rat a guy out.”

“Please, she’d realize who you were a few minutes into talking with you if she came over here. She’s scary perceptive about that kind of thing.”

“It’s probably the PTSD hypervigilance,” Kaito grumbles.

Conan kicks him in the shin and Kaito swears under his breath.

“Your bony feet are a weapon.”

“I know,” Conan says. “C’mon, let’s go rope the kids into something before they spring something on us.”

“What, you expect me to join you?” Kaito asks. “I’m just a passing young woman enjoying a conversation.”

“Well you’re going to be a young woman playing with some kids.” Conan grabs Kaito’s hand and pulls, and it’s follow or be knocked sideways on his modest high heels. Brat.

It’s a good think Kaito doesn’t mind children.

o*O*o

Conan is at Agasa’s place when Kaito next shows up, the Kirin’s Horn heist fresh in his mind. It’s clearly still on Conan’s mind too because he glares at Kaito when he enters the room.

“You!” Conan growls.

“Me!” Kaito says, trying not to feel intimidated. It’s actually pretty hard since he knows intimately just how hard Conan can kick.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Agreed,” Ai says from her place on the sofa, book in hand.

“For knocking you out?” Kaito says. “All’s fair at heists, or did I miss a memo?”

“I am going to sic the police on you so hard next time,” Conan says.

“You got off lucky this time.”

“You chloroformed me.”

“Originally,” Kaito says, “it was going to be a Taser.”

Both Ai and Conan give him horrified looks.

“Oi, not like a full strength one! I don’t want to kill you.” Kaito scrubs the back of his neck and goes to sit on the couch that isn’t currently full of not-children with a grudge at the moment. “I was testing a lower power version and everything, and by testing, I mean I Tasered myself. Fun fact: robots and electricity apparently don’t mix.”

“Oh my god, what did you do?” Conan asks still horrified, but also morbidly curious.

“I, er, might have shorted something out temporarily. And temporarily disrupted some of my bio-synthetic processes.”

“Meaning you almost died,” Ai says with the level tone of a scientist making an observation. “You’re an idiot.”

“Oi, It’s not like I could have known how I’d react. Most things I handle like a human.” Kaito wrinkles his nose at her. “Hakuba already gave me a riot act on doing dangerous shit without supervision so I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“Still an idiot. Also, don’t Taser Kudo, we still don’t know how much the toxin has harmed his heart.”

Kaito blinks and Conan grimaces.

“I thought you said it was fine,” Conan says.

“I said I didn’t notice any signs of problems, but that doesn’t mean it’s fine. The change feels like a heart attack, and that’s probably significant.”

“Noted,” Kaito says. “I’d feel bad if I actually killed you.”

Conan looks unimpressed. “Wow, such strong feelings.”

Kaito rolls his eyes. “I’d be devastated if I killed anyone, that doesn’t make you special.”

“And I thought our friendship meant something,” Conan says, deadpan.

Kaito snickers.

“Are you here for a reason or did you just so happen to feel social?” Ai asks.

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Kaito says with an airy wave of his hand. “Catch up on Beika news, visit one of my favorite detectives and his lovely scientist friend, run a scan to triple check I really didn’t short anything out with all the electricity going on the other day…”

“Get to the lab, idiot,” Ai says setting her book aside. “Agasa-hakase isn’t here today, so you’ll have to have me as a lab tech.”

“Joy.” Ai always has a way of leaving Kaito uncomfortable.

“I could leave you to struggle on your own.”

“No, no, the help is appreciated. I can’t do full body scans all on my lonesome.” Kaito stretches. “Any new murders since we last saw each other, Tantei-kun?”

“A drowning and an onsen murder actually.”

Kaito pauses. “…Was the drowning at the onsen or are these two separate murders?”

Conan looks at him with too-old eyes. “Which do you think?”

“You have terrible luck, did you know that?”

“I’m very aware.”

“He’s still on my shit list for the onsen murder,” Ai says, already prepping the lab with efficiency.

“Wow, what did he do?” Kaito drags a chair to the best position for a body scan.

“He ran into the women’s baths.”

“You’d just found a dead body!” Conan sputters. “You got your revenge already! It wasn’t like I was even paying attention to you!”

“I’m not that quick to forgive.”

Kaito snorts. “You’re lucky it wasn’t my friend Aoko. She tends to hit first, question later.”

“Speaking from experience?” Ai asks.

“Lots of it. I mean I have it coming, but still. It’s best for my self-preservation that I’ve mostly outgrown flipping her skirt.”

Both Ai and Conan give him identical disgusted grimaces. “You deserve any head trauma you get from that,” Ai says.

“Fair enough. I don’t really get why it’s such a big deal to so many people though, honestly. Bodies are bodies.”

“You’re the one that used underwear to distract me in the Black Star heist,” Conan says.

“To distract you yeah, but it’s more funny to me than distracting?” Kaito shrugs. “To be honest I think that’s something that changed since I became…like this. I can remember feeling… things… but those sort of thought skew toward the romantic rather than the physical these days.”

“While that makes me want to pick apart your brain,” Ai says in that bland, terrifying way of hers, “I need you to hold still so I can take the scan.”

Kaito gives her a mocking little salute and makes like a statue. Ai positions the machine around him in multiple angles until she’s satisfied.

“If you don’t feel that, what’s with all the attempts at kissing people?” Conan grumbles. People, meaning Ran, Kaito guesses.

“Kissing is nice,” Kaito says when Ai will let him move again. “Not that I’ve done much of it. I thought you realized by now I’m a lot more show than not when I’m Kid. Or in general really.” He doesn’t pretend too much around them these days and that’s kind of nice. It’s also more than a bit unnerving whenever he stops and considers that he’s being vulnerable, but it’s probably worth it in the long run. He’s been told a lot lately that honesty and openness make for stronger friendships. “Half of all that is just to mess with you.”

“Oi. Do you want a soccer ball to the face?”

Kaito snickers. “You have to admit, you make the best panicked faces.”

“I hope Ran punches you next time.”

“I’d deserve it,” Kaito agrees cheerfully.

“Well,” Ai says, “I’m not seeing anything obvious, but I’ll go over the scans in detail and get back to you. In the meantime, look out for anything off and don’t play lightning rod.”

“There goes that fantasy of hang gliding in a thunder storm,” Kaito says.

“I know you’re joking,” Conan says, “but sometimes it’s honestly hard to tell.”

“You wouldn’t find it cool to be in the sky with lightning flashing around?”

“No. Not at all. I’m not suicidal.”

Kaito sighs dramatically. “It would be like being one with nature.”

“Right up until you’re electrocuted or blown into a tree.”

“Maybe. Eh, I need to change things up more. I’ve been using the glider more lately and it’s getting predictable. Though to be fair, it’s faster than the balloons I used to use.”

Conan wrinkles his nose. “Balloons?”

“They don’t rely on wind or a specific height to power them,” Kaito says reasonably. “They’re slow though, and can burst. Which isn’t the best once guns come into play.”

“Right. Don’t tell me your plans.”

“You’re going to wonder next heist whether I’ll be using the glider at all, or if I’ll use it just because I said I shouldn’t,” Kaito says with a wink.

“Still hate you.” Conan has that grumpy-but-reluctantly-fond expression on and Kaito’s counting it as a win. Conan’s only pretending to be annoyed on principle.

“Kuroba,” Ai says cutting into the banter. “Could I talk to you alone for a moment?”

“Yes?” Kaito tilts his head to try and glimpse what Ai’s doing, but it doesn’t give any hints for what she wants. Nor does a glance at Conan. Conan shrugs in a way that could mean ‘who knows’ or maybe also ‘good luck’ before wandering out. Kaito’s pretty sure he’s outside the door eavesdropping because that’s standard detective nosiness, but Kaito’s not going to be the one to call him out on that. He’d be doing the same thing.

“Is there something wrong with the scan?” Kaito asks when Ai’s silent a bit too long.

“No,” she says. “I will have to go over it closer just to make sure, but that’s not what this is about.” She spins around in her chair and pins Kaito with a look that is just as sharp as any of the detectives’ stares. Kaito tries not to fidget under the weight of it. “You’re aware I’ve been studying your body.”

Any remnants of Kaito’s light mood crash and burn. “I’m aware.”

“You’re also aware that I created the poison that shrunk Kudo and myself.”

“Conan might have mentioned it.”

Ai folds her hands in her lap. It should look relaxed, but it’s somehow as unsettling as if she steepled her fingers like some kind of cartoon villain. “The chamber holding your body contains an oxygenated gas that, along with some injected substance that I’ve gotten traces of in blood, halts cellular degeneration. It works as a perfect preservative, and along with a very mild electric pulse, is preserving the body’s brain. The body is dead, but it’s been preserved at the exact moment of death. From what I can assess, the cause of death is a stopped heart. The substance injected as the preservative also slowed the heart to the point of death. He would have been aware,” Ai says mercilessly, “that he was dying, but unable to fight it. The chamber would have finished the process.”

She takes a breath. “I’m creating an antidote,” she says. “For Kudo. Personally I have no interest in returning to my former age and identity, but Kudo still has a life and people to return to. In allowing me to look at how your body was preserved, you’ve actually helped me make a few steps toward that goal. It’s not the same science as the apoptoxin, but there were similarities that helped flesh out my notes.”

“So you’re closer to helping Conan be Kudo and my body’s still very dead,” Kaito says. “Great. Why did you need to tell me this?”

Ai’s lips pinch for a moment. “Your body can’t be revived by restarting its heart and lungs no matter how intact they are because of the substance injected in it. And that substance can’t be filtered reliably out. But…”

“But what?” Kaito asks. He’s tempted to fling himself from the chair and leave, but something about her hesitation makes him stay a little longer.

“There’s a chance I could add to it and induce a similar effect as the apoptoxin. The most likely outcome of this would be that the body dies properly and for good. But,” Ai says softly, “there’s a small chance that it reacts the way Kudo and I did and it reverts back to a younger age. An age that’s also revivable because the toxin has run its course.”

Kaito stares. Kaito—the human Kaito—could be saved. Oh, it has to be an infinitesimally small chance of it happening, but it’s that much of a percent more than the rest of eternity spent in a glass box. And, as she said, it could kill him dead. But at least Kaito would actually be dead instead of in limbo.

But if it worked and Kaito’s body becomes a child again, what will that mean for him, the very-much-not-human Kaito? The Kaito that stole his face and stole his life and everyone he loves. Something between terror and jealousy twists in his gut. If the body gets to live, he’ll be the real Kaito again and Kaito won’t be anything.

And yet… Kaito knows that this body doesn’t have many years in it. Statistically speaking, technology doesn’t outlast a human body. A computer is lucky to get four years before something major breaks down. For Kaito’s experimental body… He’ll be lucky to get four years. He has no back-up of his brain, no depository of memories that he can add to on the off chance something goes wrong. He could probably ask Ai, Agasa, and Hakuba to collaborate on one just in case, but then again, he’s not sure he wants that either. That he could die and be replaced by a saved version of himself with gaps in memory… he doesn’t like the idea any more than the real Kaito will like it. So if this is the only shot he has, he might as well give a chance to the human Kaito. That way when he does degrade and become obsolete, they’d maybe have human Kaito still. There would be gaps left, but not as devastating of ones.

It isn’t just his choice to make though, no matter that it is his human body.

“Can I think about it?” Kaito asks, tense as a strung piano wire and doing terribly at hiding it.

“Take all the time you need,” Ai says. “It’s not something I can do overnight, and the body isn’t going anywhere. I just needed to tell you that it’s an option.”

Kaito nods. He needs to leave. He doesn’t want to look like he’s fleeing though. “Thanks for telling me. I should go make a phone call.”

He hears Ai murmur, “Don’t thank me yet,” under her breath as he turns and walks in a deceptively calm manner toward the door. He’s not fooling anyone.

There’s skittering as Conan sprinting away, but that’s fine. He can know about it, it’s not like it makes a difference. Kaito doesn’t even acknowledge Conan’s terrible attempt to look like he’s been watching television the whole time, instead walking straight for the door.

o*O*o

“Hey.” The online call connects with Kaito sitting surrounded by his fifteen doves, their soft feathers and voices soothing the tiny part of himself that kept whirling in panic.

“Kaito,” his mother says, surprised. It’s not their usual day to talk, and he’s only on voice call, not video. He doesn’t want to see what kind of expression she might make. “Is something wrong? You don’t need me to come home do you?”

As nice as it would be to have another of her visits, he won’t ask that of her. “I can’t just call?” he says lightly.

“Of course you can,” Chikage says. Warmly, like when she brushes his hair away from his forehead or gives him little side hugs when they cross into each other’s space. “You don’t ‘just call’ though.”

“Maybe I should,” Kaito says. She would appreciate a son that reached out more. But he’d appreciate her being here more. They’re both independent people, but they’re also social people and he understands. He understands why she needs to travel and see new things and reconnect with old friends. He just doesn’t always like it.

“I’d appreciate it in the future,” Chikage says, “but what did you call for now?”

“An offer was made. About Kaito.”

A beat of silence on the other end as she registers him using his own name. “What kind of offer?” she asks a lot more hesitant than a second ago. They never did talk about the body.

Maybe they should have. It’s so much easier to ignore elephants in the room than to dwell on them. “There’s a procedure Haibara Ai could do. I don’t know the numbers or science on it, but there’s a small chance she could get him alive again. There’d be side effects—” like losing a decade in age “—but he’d be Kaito and alive and human.”

“And what’s the rest of the chances?”

“It’d kill him,” Kaito says quietly. “Completely not just whatever not-death he’s in now. Being honest, it’s a lot higher percentage that he’d die than live from the sound of it, but…”

“I couldn’t kill him,” Chikage says. “I thought about it, like a coma patient on life support at a hospital, but…”

“But he’s not brain dead,” Kaito says with understanding. “I thought about it too. Not all for good reasons.” He doesn’t poke the minefield of jealousy and conflicting feelings of personhood. That way lies depression spirals. “It’s not really right to leave him like that forever though, is it?”

“No.” Chikage sighs. “A really small percentage?” she says, longing.

“Terribly small,” Kaito says. “Haibara didn’t sound confident that it would work. Still, it’d be like him—us—to leave that kind of thing to chance and play the impossible odds.”

He listens to Chikage’s breathing as she thinks, picturing her sitting in some cheesy themed hotel room with a late dinner in the form of hotel catering and the casual chaos of her suitcases slowly taking over the room. Or maybe it is still neat because Chikage reached the point of getting annoyed with clutter and put it all away until the cycle repeated. Either way she’s probably sitting on her bed with her toes tucked under the covers to keep her feet warm like she does at home when they watch movies together.

Kaito misses her terribly sometimes.

One of his doves flutters on his shoulder, right up against his neck all warm and grounding and alive. He pets her, feeling her feathers fluff and settle, her tiny body leaning into his touch.

“If it works, how will we explain two of you?” Chikage asks finally.

“If it works, he probably won’t be able to slip back into his old life, the side effects would make that impossible, and even if they didn’t, he has over a year of life and growth that never happened.” Kaito scratches the feathers along his dove’s neck. “Maybe he could go be with you. At least until he’s recovered and all. He’s… probably not going to like me much.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be your own best friend?” Chikage jokes. It’s a very weak joke, but he gives her points for trying.

“Considering how I reacted to the other robot that tried to steal our life, no.”

“…We’d make things work. If we got him back, we’d figure out a way to make it all work out.”

“Yeah.”

“It wouldn’t make me love you less,” Chikage says hitting to the heart of his fears in all of this. “You’d both be Kaito. I have enough love to go around.”

“I know. Thanks, Kaa-san.” He curls a little tighter and another bird lands on his back like that will get her pettings instead of Kaito trying not to move and dislodge her. “So.”

“I think you should try,” Chikage says. “It’s probably not going to work, but…”

“It’s resolution,” Kaito says.

“Yes.”

The dove on Kaito’s back flutters away but the one on his shoulder stays cuddled close. “Do you want to be here when…?”

Chikage is quiet long enough for Kaito to worry that the call has dropped. “I should be there,” she says, which isn’t really an answer.

“I’ll let you know when Haibara thinks she has things down to try it. You can decide then.”

“Thank you, Kaito.”

Kaito hums and lets her transition the topic to something else, something lighter and not involving death at all.

#magic kaito #detective conan #robot kaito #fanfiction #my writing #it's a good thing i had this written before posting #because my will to write has left me since work started back up #now i'm just tired and hollow again

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broken-clover · 4 years

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AU-gust Day 4- Angels & Demons

I was hoping I wouldn’t have any close calls with this prjoect, but apparently when you write too many words it takes a lot of time. Dunno why this one ended up on the longer end. Ah well.

I really liked this one! Both conceptually and coming up with a story. I also ended up learning a couple things. I never knew ‘cambion’ were a thing until I was researching supernatural crossbreeding.

This one’s Sin and Bedman, but it isn’t romantic (I’m saving that for later!)

When his father talked about heaven, he talked of glimmering monoliths and flowers that grew higher than the eye could see. Of massive floating continents carpeted in grass and an endless sky, so vast and hauntingly beautiful that even angels feared it, just a little.

When his mother talked about hell, she described endless winding, warm tunnels and gentle light. Walls embedded with shining ores and muted colors, eerie to some but comforting to others who dwelled in them.

Sin was pretty sure he preferred being on earth, though. It had a bit of both, scattered in places he didn’t always expect. The little flowers peeking out of cracks in the concrete instead of towering over him. The twinkle of rhinestones and tin cans and iridescent puddles on parking lot asphalt outside the grocery store. The slivers of a gorgeous blue sky between the trees in their backyard.

Ky and Dizzy still had times where they grew wistful of their old homes. Sin couldn’t help but feel ashamed whenever that happened. No matter how much they tried to assure him that he wasn’t at fault for anything, it felt like no matter what he did, he was just a constant reminder that he was the reason they had been banished to earth. Angels weren’t supposed to fraternize with demons, and demons weren’t supposed to pine for angels. And they definitely weren’t supposed to have a child together.

His left wing was his mother’s, slender and leathery, and the right was his father’s, fluffy and blue-white. His halo was visible only in the darkest rooms, and his horns had never grown past little bony nubbins that stayed hidden by his hair. His parents told him that they loved him no matter what, but it was little consolation for the fact that Sin simply didn’t know who or what he was supposed to be. Angels had taken human lovers in the past, and those children were called nephilim. Demons had done the same, and theirs were cambion. But there was no word for the offspring of an angel and a demon, because it wasn’t something that was supposed to happen, or something anyone would have ever expected. Maybe it was fitting that they had called him ‘Sin.’ That’s what he was. Nothing more.

He had the impression that his parents didn’t have much of a clue, either. Though they didn’t know much about the concept, they had done their best to raise him as a human, without any of the expectations angels or demons had. There were still some things they just couldn’t ignore- his wings, which were the reason he had been homeschooled until he could learn the techniques to hide them from mortals, or his burgeoning magical abilities- but aside from that, he considered himself indistinguishable to the naked eye from any other human boy. He grew, he learned, he played, and he was very, very curious.

And that curiosity was the reason he was currently sitting on the roof at 10pm, staring up at the empty sky.

There was supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and the concept utterly fascinated him. As a child, Sin had used to think that meteors and falling stars were made in heaven and dropped down to earth. Ky had chuckled at the idea. Heaven wasn’t really ‘above’ and hell wasn’t really ‘below,’ so to speak, and meteors came from outer space. Still, it apparently made for a beautiful sight, and he wanted to see it if it really was as breathtaking as everyone said it was.

His parents had foregone watching the shower in favor of visiting a friend’s house for dinner. They had invited him to come along, but Sin had been too enraptured by the idea of a meteor shower that he chose to stay home. He was old enough now that as long as he cleaned up after any messes and didn’t stay up all night, they were willing to let him be responsible for himself.

Sin tried to find a way to lie down and relax without pinching his wings. Ky didn’t like when he climbed on the roof, but it offered a lot better viewing than the tree-lined backyard. If it was his first shower, he wanted to be good.

It took a while of just lying there and staring up at the sky, but eventually, Sin started to see little streaks of light. It wasn’t the most jaw-dropping beauty he’d ever seen, but he could still feel his breath catch in his throat. Every minute or so, a new little smear began twinkling and painting a line across the dark night sky.

“Woah…” His wings flapped against his back. Did they have meteor showers in heaven or hell? For as much otherworldly beauty they seemed to have, Sin wondered if there were some sights that could only be found on earth.

Right before she had left, Dizzy had given him a kiss on the head and told him to make a wish on a falling star. Apparently, that was some kind of human custom. If you didn’t tell anybody what you wished for, then, hypothetically, it was supposed to come true.

It sounded like such a silly concept, but he was already watching, so what was the harm?

Sin shook his head at his own foolishness and sat up, pressing his hands together and squeezing his eyes shut as a golden comet began streaking across the sky. “Dear God, or whoever is in charge of stars. I wish for…”

What was it that he wanted? To be human? To be just an angel, or a demon? Both of his parents were important to him. He didn’t want to give that up. But it didn’t feel like anyone, human or otherwise, really ‘got’ him. Nobody knew about all his sides. Not even his...

Oh! That was a great idea! He closed his eyes again. “I want a friend. But not like the kids at school. I want a friend that really understands me. Somebody who can accept both halves of me. I want a friend that I don’t have to hide anything about myself when they’re around.”

He sat in silence for a moment, before he cracked and opened one eye. Absolutely nothing had changed. He was still sitting on the roof, alone, trying to pray on a meteor.

Sin let out a disappointed groan and flopped back onto the roof, glaring up at that golden meteor as it continued to fly. He didn’t even know why he was disappointed. What had he honestly expected? Of course nothing would happen. It was just a falling rock, after all.

A falling rock that, if he was looking at it right...almost looked like it was heading right towards him.

Before he could realize what was happening, the meteor arced down and slammed into the backyard right in front of him, hitting the dirt with an unexpectedly quiet ‘thump.’ Sin jumped back at the burst of light, but just as quickly scrambled to his feet, moving to peek off of the roof.

It was difficult to discern much of anything. He could see that a few tree branches had been snapped off, but most of the backyard was enveloped in a cloud of dust. Ky had said meteors made craters when they hit the ground, so maybe that was why.

He hopped off the roof, slowing his descent with a few careful flaps until his feet hit the ground. The dust had just begun settling, and he could make out the edge of a ragged hole where the flowerbeds used to be. Dizzy really wasn’t going to be happy about that. She really loved those magnolias. But at least it hadn’t been his fault.

The dirt underfoot began to shift and give as he approached the rim. Sin managed to flap and jump back before he could tumble into it. He watched the little crumbs of dirt roll down along the curved edges until they vanished into the dissipating dust.

Sin considered hopping in anyway, but he was interrupted by the appearance of the meteor as its outline slowly became more prominent and clear. He tried inching forward again, closer but not too close as to fall in. When he thought about it, he wasn’t really sure why he was unnerved. Meteors were rocks, weren’t they? Why would he have any reason to be afraid of a rock?

He leaned forward and squinted his eyes. Well, it had to be a strange one It didn’t look much like a rock. Actually, it really looked a lot more like a kid.

As soon as the thought hit him Sin jerked to attention again. He did a double-take, and began inching back towards the house. Unless it was a ridiculously realistic carving, it just had to be human-shaped. They didn’t have any statues or sculptures in the backyard, and even if they did, it probably would have been destroyed by the meteor...but then again, he couldn’t find anything that looked like a meteor anywhere in the massive dent. All of the dirt had parted around the strange, limp figure that was currently curled up in the bottom of it.

Could it really be a person? How had they managed to fall out of the sky? It just had to be a coincidence, right? Maybe they had climbed into the backyard to try and break into the house while his parents were gone, and just happened to have fallen in. Hesitantly, he reached for the porch broom his mother had left out, and hefted it like a makeshift polearm. Maybe he’d get lucky and they would run away as soon as they realized the house wasn’t abandoned.

He spread his wings and took off again, trying to find a place to land on the steep curves. Despite his best effort, his feet slid out from under him as soon as he landed, and he managed to fall over on his ass. The broom slipped out of his reach as he tried to catch his fall, and Sin watched in dismay as it rolled to a stop right by the center of the crater.

“Easy...easy…” He tried to coax himself, inching down with his hands and feet, breath catching every time he skidded. “Take it slow...don’t panic…”

As soon as he was close enough to the broom, he put his toe on the handle and dragged it up to where he could grab on with his hands. He sat there for a moment, in a confused little ball, holding a dirty broom in the bottom of a meteor crater in his backyard to defend himself from an unconscious person five feet away from him.

Yeah. Even by his standards, this was definitely weird.

When he was pretty well convinced they weren’t going to leap to life and begin clawing at his face, Sin reached over and prodded them in the shoulder with his broom. It didn’t get him any reaction. He let the end of it sit on their back, and he could see the small rise and fall of it. Okay, so they really were just unconscious and not dead. Sin lifted it back up and pulled it into his lap again.

There was something sooty caught up in the broom’s bristles. He moved to wipe it away, but his fingers slid against something soft, instead. When he plucked the odd bit of debris out and held it up to his face, he found that it wasn’t dirt, but a single ink-black feather.

Immediately curious, he let himself scoot closer. Though he hesitated at first, Sin managed to reach across the unconscious body and turn it. Yep, it was still warm, just in case the breathing had been a fluke. He didn’t care about that detail for long, though, because as soon as he rolled them over, he could see swathes of black feathers, arranged in messy lines, folded against their back like a pair of...wings?

No, that couldn’t be right. Ky had said angel’s wings were supposed to be pale, and Dizzy had said demon’s wings were supposed to be leathery. He’d never seen, or even heard of black-feathered wings before. Did that mean they had to be fake? He gave one of them a tug.

“A-agh, ow-”

Sin immediately pulled back once again, pressing himself against the dirt as the body suddenly began moving. At the last moment, he thought to grab the broom, just in time to be face-to-face with a pair of glowing yellow eyes when he faced them again.

He tried to think of something to say. Sin genuinely had no idea how to respond in this situation. Was there etiquette in talking to strange boys that fell out of the sky?

His palms were sweating. He readjusted the grip on his weapon. “I-I’m not looking for trouble.”

The stranger stared at him, silent but seemingly content. As soon as he began to speak, though, he mirrored Sin, throwing himself back against the side of the crater.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” He shouted, remarkably loud for someone his size. Sin was pretty big for his age, but the stranger seemed small even by normal human standards. At least it meant that if this did end up turning violent, he’d be at the advantage.

“Hey, hey, woah, hold up a second-” Sin raised his hands. “I just said, I’m not looking for trouble.”

That didn’t seem to help. “WHO ARE YOU?!” He screeched again.

“I’m- my name is Sin!” He tried, raising his own voice a little so he could be heard better. “My name is Sin, and you’re in my backyard.”

“WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE?!”

“I didn’t! I was just watching the shooting stars fall, and then you fell out of the sky instead and landed in my backyard. I have no idea why you’re here. I don’t even have any idea who you are!”

He must have given the stranger what he wanted. Sin watched his muscles unclench. His jet-black wings began doing restless, useless little flaps, the same way his did when he was confused or distressed.

“...What are you?” Asked Sin. “I’ve never seen wings like yours before.”

“Wings?” He responded, though it wasn’t really a response. Sin watched him turn to look at his own black wings.

He nodded. “Yeah. They don’t look like either of mine.” His own wings extended until the other could see them. “You don’t look like a demon, but you don’t really look like an angel, either. Can you tell me what you are?”

“I...I’m…” The other boy still seemed baffled by the sight of his wings, and seemed more focused on them than what Sin was saying.

“You can’t be both, can you? ‘Cause then yours would look like mine. Are you something else? You came from the sky, does that mean you came from space? Are you an alien? Or like some weird, alien-angel-demon thing? If that’s even-”

“Do you babble this much around everyone?” The stranger cut him off with an irritated look.

Sin huffed. “Well, you’re not all that nice. Probably not an angel, then. Then again, dad did say not all angels are friendly…”

“-ngh!” Anything else he was going to say was cut off, as the stranger suddenly winced with a cry.

His eyes flew open with alarm. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

When he didn’t get a response, he tried to get a better look on his own. He brushed messy purple hair out of the boy’s eyes and tried to get his attention. “Hey. Let me see where it hurts.”

“S-stay back- !”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Sin spoke with calm confidence, trying his best to be reassuring. “I just want to see it.”

With enough coaxing, he finally caught sight of the trouble spot as a pale hand came away from his side, dirtied by...something.

“Huh? That looks awfully dirty, maybe it’d help to clean it first-”

As soon as he touched the other’s hand, a stinging pain shot up his arm. Sin yelped and pulled away. A bit of black stickiness clung to his fingertips, and the pain continued until he wiped it off on his hand.

“Ow, ow, ow-” He hissed, wincing at the angry red coloration that had overtaken his fingers. “What the hell…?”

What he’d thought was dirt was actually a strange, sludgy material that weeped from the slice in his side. “Is that...your blood?”

“Well, it has to be, doesn’t it?” The other replied, though he didn’t sound especially sure himself. “Why did you start shouting?”

Sin flexed his fingers tentatively, to make sure they still worked alright. “My hand started hurting as soon as I got it on me. Why would it do that?”

“I…” Maybe it had been dumb to ask, it seemed like neither of them had any idea what was going on.

“I guess it doesn’t matter right now. Let’s go inside, we’ve got bandages in the bathroom.” It took him a minute to find his balance in the crater, but when he did, he helped the other up and pulled the two of them out, with a few dirty knuckles and pained whimpers, but otherwise nothing too serious. He threw the stranger’s arm around his shoulder and managed to find a way to support him without bending his wings or putting his hand right on the wound, for both of their sakes.

“We’ve got juice and stuff inside, too, if you want it.” Despite the situation, Sin was trying to remain upbeat. “I’m sure you’ll feel a whole lot better when you’re got something to drink…” He trailed off. “Um, sorry, what’d you say your name was?”

His companion was quiet, initially looking very confused before it slowly began morphing into fear. “What’s wrong?”

“N-no, that can’t be, I can’t- I can’t be-”

Sin stopped. “It doesn’t have to be everything all at once. I just don’t really know who or what you are.”

His expression finally crumpled into abject horror. “...neither do I.”

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #Sin Kiske #Bedman

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ataleoftwoprinces-blog · 5 years

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A Tale of 2 Souls - Chapter 1

Suddenly got a little insecure before posting this but ehhhh too late now! Sidenote: You’ll notice I call the Spade King “Ace”. That’s his name. His name is Ace. Ace of Spades. GET IT????

======

It had started like any other day in the Card Castle. The Castle’s staff slowly woke up one by one and got started on the standard Morning Routine. Sweeping, wiping the windows, cooking Breakfast for the Royals. Rouxls Kaard was brewing a tray of tea for his King (not like he had any other job). It was so quiet and peaceful. Nothing could spoil this for him. Except- WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Roulx half expected the walls to shake from that high pitched wail echoing through the stone hallways. He huffed and blew a strand of white hair out of his face. It was a full-time job being a Royal Nanny. That’s when he felt something gently tug on the tails of his coat. He looked down and saw Prince Lancer standing there innocently. The three-year-old had a half-eaten cookie in his hand that was soggy from being slobbered all over. “What is thoust little prince’s reason for summoning thine attention of yours truly?!” Roulx yelled, trying to be heard over the crying. At least now he could confidently pinpoint who was making it. “Walsei is dying.” His heart lurched a little just hearing the Prince say such a thing so casually. Surely he was exaggerating. But at the same time, if he actually wasn’t…Rouxls Kaard could be out of a job. He allowed Lancer to lead him through the many floors of the Castle until they finally reached the floor where all the bedrooms were. As he’s guessed, Ralsei was sitting on the floor screaming and crying his lungs out. A quick once over revealed no external injuries on the Prince. “Now, now! What is thine reason for making such a racket??” Roulx asked, kneeling down to Ralsei. His crying quieted by a little bit upon seeing the Nanny. He looked up at him with large round bright Pink eyes and causing him to flinch just a little. The Adopted Prince raised his hand and patted the top of his head, finally bringing Rouxls Kaard’s attention to what was most likely the problem. On both sides of Ralsei’s head, the fur had parted, and 2 Pastel Pink horns could be seen just beginning to erupt. Though it appeared as they’d just barely broken the surface. Currently, they were little more than hard bony nubs on Ralsei’s otherwise soft head. Taken aback a little, Roulx was unsure what to say. He, nor anyone in the Castle, really knew anything about Boss Monsters and how they develop. He was unsure of the best possible way to comfort the adopted prince. “Uhh…C-Calm down thine little prince…! Thou has simply begun to grow thine horns! Completely normal!” He explained as simply as he could, wiping the tears from his eyes. His expression went from sad and scared, to suddenly fascinated and relieved. “Horns? Oh boy! When am I gonna get MY horns??” Lancer chimed, reminding Roulx that he was still there. “uh…Excuse thou for a moment…” He quickly dashed out of the room to the Elevators, leaving the two Princes alone. “Please be awake…Please be awake…Please be-” As he was reciting those words over and over in his head, he slammed directly into what could only be described as a very squishy brick wall. But upon backing up, he realized it was just the Spade King, holding a very crudely molded clay Coffee Cup with the words: “King Dad” scribbled on the front in Magic Marker. “Oh…! There you are my King…!” “Rouxls Kaard." He acknowledged. "What’s wrong?” “urmm…” What was the best way to say this? “It has come to mine attention that thou Prince Ralsei has begun to grow horns…” Ace stared at him with his mouth hanging open, like a slow ass computer being rebooted. Suddenly he perked up. “Oh! Really? I was starting to wonder when he’d get those!” “w-wait…Really?” “Yes! Come, I want to show you something I picked up a few weeks ago…!” === The Spade King led Rouxls to his bedroom, which was just off the side to the Throne Room. A large circle room with a giant blue Canopy Bed in the center. Fit for a King, if not for the mess of Candy Wrappers, papers, and ink stains that were littering the floor. Ace bypassed all of this and went straight for his bookcase. After running his finger over the dusty books, he pulled out a pure white one with a gold spine. On the side, Rouxls Kaard could see the title of the book: 'Light and Dark: A Comprehensive History of Monster Kind' “I don’t understand. How is thou piece of literature any use to us? And where did thou obtain such an item?” “It was a birthday present. I only recently started just flipping through it out of boredom, but then I found something interesting.” Spade gave his finger a lick and started quickly skipping through the pages until he must have landed on what he was looking for. “You know how Ralsei is a Furry Boss Monster, correct?” “I-I was not…entirely aware of what thine term was…” “Well…Just look here.” He pointed to the exact paragraph, and Rouxls Kaard read it out-loud. "Lightner Boss Monsters can come in different forms. But the most common is the Furry Boss Monster, who often take the form of a Goat or Sheep. They are characterized by white fur, tall stature (7 feet for adult females, 8 feet for adult males), and large horns (much longer and sharper on males than females). They are not born with horns. But around 2 years of age, they will begin to erupt from the top of the head. Though they will not become very noticeable until 8 years old. And will not be fully developed until age 16, on average." “If he’s just starting to get them now, he’s a bit of a late bloomer, but that makes sense. Given his um…Condition…” The King explained. His voice faltered a little on that last part. Roulx Kaard nodded. As (sort of) expected, within his first few months at the castle, a few undesirable Health Problems with Ralsei had reared their ugly head. The main one being what Seam, the Castle's resident Magician and Healer had described as a “tiny SOUL”. It was what it sounded like. His SOUL was significantly smaller compared to Lancer’s, or any other Monster in the Dark World for that matter. The King was told his HP would likely cap at only 80 if he was lucky, and while he was still perfectly capable of magic, he would apparently never be as strong with it as other Monsters of his guild typically were. The news had come as a shock, but over the last 4 years, Ralsei had proven his smaller SOUL was still capable of holding all the love in the world. The King was confident he’d end up outgrowing it anyway. And until then, he had his big brother Lancer to keep him safe. “Hmm…But Sire, I think-eth that there is another paragraph that thou skimmed over.” Rouxls Kaard suddenly interrupted his thought and pointed to the sentences that came directly after the one he just read. During a 6 year period, young Boss Monsters will go through a sort of teething period similar to Human Children and their teeth. Causing headaches, soreness in the area around the horns, and minor swelling. The Boss Monster will try to relieve this pain by headbutting and rubbing their head on any object or form of surfaces. A Healing Prayer given by those experienced in the Magical Arts can also remove the pain for 3 days at the strongest. As if on cue, Ace and Rouxls suddenly heard the sound of china breaking, Ruddins yelling, and random little thuds. “Ohhh no! My Teapot!” Rouxls Kaard cried out and ran out of the bedroom at the speed of light. The King stayed back, before sighing and preparing to follow him (He was never much of a runner). Suddenly, a gentle knock came to the door. “Your Majesty…? May I come in…?” Asked a grave yet gentle voice. The King instantly knew who it was. He opened the door, revealing a short (by comparison) scruffy grey-ish blue cat, with bright orange buttons for eyes. His fur was sticking out in different directions (especially in his face where it was thickest, giving the impression he had a beard), and matted from age. Dressed in long blue satin robes and an orange scarf that matched his eyes. “Seam, my old friend, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you up here?” The King asked with a smile, inviting the old cat inside his room. “There’s something important I would like to talk to you about…” Seam said, coming in. Ace pulled out one of the large chairs nearby for him to sit in. “And what is that…?” The King inquired. “Well…You know that I’m not as young and in my prime, as I once was…” Said the old cat. “Whaaat? Come on, you don’t look a day over-…Uhh…Y-You’re so young looking that I forgot how old you actually are!” “With all due respect your Highness, we all know that’s a fat lie. I’m almost 70 years old. My back has begun to ache, my magic is weaker than it once was…It's been getting harder and harder to do anything...” “Seam, what are you trying to say…?” “I’m saying that I would like to take on an Apprentice. Someone who can both help me keep up with the work to be done around here, and…To inevitably take my place when I’m gone…” The King stared at him, his throat tightened, and he was slightly taken aback. He’d known Seam since him and the other kings were children. He’d always known him to be in his prime at all times. To hear him now discussing his inevitable departure from this world was…heavy, to say the least… “If…If you insist. I’m sure one of the Ruddins or even one of the Hathys would be more than happy to volunteer-” “No.” Interrupted Seam. “I beg your pardon?” Said the Spade. “I need an apprentice who’s young, unique, and already gifted enough in Magic.” “How do you propose we find such a candidate?” The two both scratched their chin in deep thought. “I...I'm not sure exactly...” Said Seam. "Well...The boy's 4th birthday is only a month away. I've been trying to find good entertainment for them. Perhaps we could kill 2 birds with one stone...!" "What do you mean?" "I'll gather the best young magicians I can find for the party, and once everything is said and done, you pick which one you think fits best...!" "I...I suppose it could work...To be honest, picking an apprentice based on how well they performed at a Children's birthday seems a little arbitrary..." "Hey, it'll be for royalty...! These won't be your average birthday clowns, just trust me on that." “You’re positive this is the only way…?” Questioned the old cat. “Unless you have a better idea.” "I don't really..." "I thought so." Smiling, the King gave his old friend a pat on the shoulder. Before they heard another series of crashes and yelling from downstairs. “THOU PUTRID LITTLE WORMS HAVE DESTROY-ETH MY FAVORITE CHINA TEA SET!! OH THE HUMANITYYY…!!” “One more thing. Could you perhaps try out a Healing Prayer on Ralsei? For everyone’s sake?”

#deltarune #deltarunekris #deltarune kris #deltarune ralsei #deltaruneralsei #deltarunelancer #deltarune lancer #deltarune roulxs kaard #deltaruneroulxskaard #deltarune spade king #deltaruneseam #deltarune seam #deltarune jevil

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bugcthulhu · 6 years

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Spanish/Iberian mythological creatures: What Even edition

Oricuerno: The “main” Spanish take on the unicorn (the other being the Escornau). White-furred with a purple head, blue or red eyes, deer hooves topped by small wings, and a twisted black, red and white horn. Usually living in the highest mountain peaks, has the power to turn women into men, and also cure poisonings and purify waters. Its entire body is considered a powerful amulet

Caltrí Snake: Massive and thick-bodied, with red scales. Devours any human it encounters, but weeps for them after the deed is done. Also known as the Calcatrix, which apparently was used to refer to crocodiles.

Cassandre: A beast of multiple colours whose pleasant smell attracts most animals but kills snakes. Between these traits and that it’s commonly assumed to be a lynx, it serves as the local version of the medieval “panthers”

Jancana: Extremely similar to the cantabrian Ojancano and sometimes treated as its female counterpart, while also a separate being. A hideous, deformed, wrinkled ogress with a single eye (plus two small ones in the nape) and either long, messy hair or snakes in place of hair. Can transform into beautiful women or giant snakes; in the latter case they can only return to their true selves after coiling six times around a man then tongue-kissing them. Also just generally rape men and cut off their tongues afterwards.

Blue-Legs Garrules: Female child-eater that enters houses through the chimney. Sometimes shown as the partner-in-crime of fellow bogeyman Camunyes

Velludo: “Hairy One” A headless horse that runs across mountains and empty streets at night, perpetually chased by six furious dogs. Said to be the spirit of a muslim king that murdered his sons (which would be the dogs)

Lobizon: A werewolf present both in Argentina and parts of Portugal, born from a curse that supposedly befalls the seventh son in any family. A pig-like hairy dog, with blazing red eyes and floppy ears. Devours children and carrion but especially craves animal excrement, a diet that renders its human form yellow-skinned and sickly

Vera Dwarf: Said to live close to a natural fountain, following close whoever approaches to collect water. Those with a good heart are allowed to pass and protected from all harm, but those with bad intentions are mercilessly beaten. Mentioned sometimes to grow in size as they watch over travellers

Silbán. A long, haired, long-legged giant whose lair was a cave high in a mountain only he could reach. Raided a nearby village to kidnap and devour women with impunity until he fell in love with his latest would-be-victim. She then escaped his clutches and conspired with the villagers to make him drink poisoned milk.

Cabrichocho: A blue lamb that subsists entirely on sap and butterflies. Hopelessly smitten with human women, to the point it mimics human speech in an attempt to win them over. Its hide is sought after by wizards, for it grants flight to the wearer.

Docejo: Bird-like being with a single wing, a single eye, and human lips instead of a beak. Drinks only from a specific river (the Jucar) and will in fact die if it ingests water from anywhere else. Loves music, and entertains itself by loudly burping at night.

Rosemunho: Evil spirit that appears in the form of whirlwind or a dust devil. Pulls travellers within itself only to toss them to their deaths somewhere else. Can be driven off by just throwing a stone or stick in its direction, because it will go hurl that instead.

Mairu: Giants said to be responsible for the construction of dolmens and other megalithic constructs across the Basque Country. Usually presented as an all-male race, with lamias as their counterpart, but some myths bring up female Mairu (Mairi) noted for their immense strength. Their arm bones – sometimes the entire preserved arm- possess magical properties

Hodei: Deity embodying storms, hail and thunder, appearing as clouds. Malevolent, brings down lightning to ruin the crops of farmers. Sometimes considered another of the earth goddess Mari and the dragon Sugaar’s many children

Darro Goblin: A cryptid whose sole witness described it as something between a monkey and a dog that walked on two legs, with an enormous head and exceedingly hairy ears. Gave terrifying screams

Mialta: Female bogeyman that force-feeds naughty children with pancakes she cooks herself, and which taste absolutely horrid.

El Pecado: Literally “The Sin”, a massive lizard so named because of its hideousness. Terrorized the village of Ovijuela until Saint Peter arrived and tamed it.

Cabanyas Lizard: Another huge, man-eating reptile, so strong it tore apart a mountain with a single strike of its tail.

Trucafort: A giant bogeyman with a beard so dense and long he keeps stepping on it, thus his tremendous howling. Always seen carrying two enormous boulders; one balanced atop his head, another at hand to smash children with.

Ome Marin: A humanoid covered in scales, with green teeth and sometimes a “mane” of algae. Prowls the coast devouring anything it can catch, including humans, and especially loves messing with and/or destroying fishing boats, ensuring sailors get stranded. Known sometimes to swim upstream and assault women near rivers.

Frailecillo: “Little Friar” Ugly, hunchbacked goblins with bony arms and massive feet, dressed in long black robes and emitting a greenish or purplish glow. Sleeping during the day, they are sometimes said to be clever and helpful but often they are extremely violent, entering houses to pinch the eyes of children as they sleep, chop off their limbs or sew their buttholes shut.

Marés: Child-eating octopuses whose embrace is impossible to break free from.

Xas: Goblin that takes refuge in abandoned windmills. While they won’t enter inhabited houses they delight in throwing rocks at them, as well as harassing livestock and stealing fruit from orchards

Gizotso: The basque werewolf. Rather than a curse, it is born from forbidden relations between man and animal. Usually wrapped in chains, and very bloodthirsty; the most common tale about them involves one randomly attacking a woman and ripping off her breasts. Always depicted with one of its legs ending in a round stump instead of a paw.

Guaraguara: Bogeyman of undefined appearance, but sometimes referred to as a “bug”

Pauet: The ghost of a child that died at the bottom of a well, crying for help that never arrived, and who now pulls others inside in an attempt to cure its loneliness. Other areas have a feminine counterpart in Maria Gancha (something like “Grabby Mary”) who simply snatches children down her well with hooked claws

Beast of the Clamor: A water monster whose terrible roaring could be heard all across the Ebro river. Legend goes a maiden was sacrificed to the beast to appease its wrath, and even though it worked and it was never heard from again, the unlucky maiden’s ghost is said to still haunt the river to this day.

Joan The Bear: Heroic giant born from a woman raped by an evil bear. Possessing enormous strength and armed with a just-as-massive iron bar, went on to have many adventures alongside a group of similarly-gifted friends – Arrencapins (who could tear the biggest trees off the ground), Escoltin-Escoltaina (who could hear even the smallest noise) Regiramuntaynes (pushes mountains around) and Bufim-Bufaina (could split the clouds by blowing)

Pardal Verd: A green, sometimes golden bird whose eggs have healing properties. Usually guarded by a giant serpent, and even then you can only ever take one egg.

Mother Of Fish: Bigger than man and brightly-coloured, like a sea snake with three heads, two tails and big expressive eyes. Intelligent, can speak and appear in the dreams of others in the form of a fairy. Eating her heads makes even the most barren woman bear children, and her tails can be made into swords.

Papasopas: A bogeyman that shows up to eat the food that naughty children refuse, but for every bite it takes, it will also bite on the children themselves. Also loves eating flies

Garos: An evil giant that was eventually bested by an entire village and killed by having a nail driven through his nape. His preserved skull was said to heal and invigorate children

Jan del Gel: A massive, literal snow man. The third of a series of snow children made by an old couple, unable to bear their own. While the first two were exemplary children up until they melted come spring, Jan ate the couple’s entire food storage then left to the mountains. Comes out during blizzards and freezes any children it spots with a glance, to drag them to his frigid cave and devour.

Orcavella: A fiendish mountain hag that terrorized an entire village, dabbling in the dark arts and eating children for centuries until finally she got tired of living and buried herself alongside a hapless shepherd she had under her control. None could approach despite his screams due to the swarms of snakes protecting the tomb, and they are said to protect it even now.

White Fox: Self-explanatory, but also has green ears/spots above the eyes and its tail, legs and teeth are entirely black. Feeds on flowers and occasionally stealing lunches from people. Its blood is highly sought after for its magical properties, but whoever meets its gaze feels immense panic.

Bird of Joy: Crimson-coloured, with green-and-white spots and black wings/beak. Start life as maggots on the White Fox’s body once it dies, eating one another until only one remains and matures. Eagles and other birds of prey give it wide berth. Loses its wings shortly before death, and if anyone pulls out the eyes once its dead, they will see them become magic diamonds.

Gollut: Hideous, narrow-eyed goblins that supposedly employed dark magic brought bad luck. Actually has a real life basis: Up until the beginning of the 20th century Catalunya housed a small, possibly inbred community plagued by deformities and dwarfism, living in squalor

Enemiguillo: “Little enemy” Microscopic, invisible goblins under the control of witches and usually held within a bottle. Their attacks express as countless burning bites on the legs and groin

Sopeira Serpent: A princess transformed into a massive snake by a curse. A knight failed to break it and ultimately killed the princess-serpent, after which her castle sank into the ground, taking with it everyone inside

Since these compilations seem to have gotten kinda popular here’s a bunch more i’ve done before , which started as me trying to help @tyrantisterror pad out his fantasy setting

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nei-ning · 5 years

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Had a dream last night where was 2003 boys (at least they looked pretty similar to them) and then anthro fox lady, Rita. After her was 2 persons, males, who wore long black capes with hood. They wanted to catch her and take her to place what they called “Hell” (not flaming torture place as Bible makes us think / believe etc.). Rita somehow found turtles and all boys instantly were like; “OOOH! Hot babe, yes!” and I got angry! :’D Because it was so not like them at all. I ranted about that to someone next to me (probably my little bro) saying that’s horrible and boys aren’t like that for real. Turtles apparently heard me since they started to behave like themselves right away, being much more polite. Then, apparently, Leonardo with Donatello and Michelangelo went to look for those 2 weird beings (since they were not humans) leaving Rita in Raphael’s care. It was clear instantly that Raph liked her a lot which reminded me of Raphael and Ninjara / Raphael and Mezcaal. It was cute.

Next Raphael, for a some reason, fell asleep and those 2 hooded guys came and took Rita, also doing something to Raphael. I now was in Raphael, seeing everything from his point of view. He walked past red brick wall near bridge and there was big mirror on the wall. Mikey was facing Raph, trying his best to stop him from going to the mirror and seeing himself but as Raph was now bigger and stronger, all what Mikey could do was to keep walking backwards in front of Raph, who finally reached the mirror. While Mikey still stood between him and mirror I could see Raphael’s shoulders. His body was taller, wider shoulders and longer arms. He had no skin and his muscles were kind of light gray-white, showing some bones between them on some parts. I sensed that his head wasn’t normal either and while I didn’t saw his reflection from the mirror I knew he had long bony neck and long animal skull with long straight horns. Pretty much like antilope’s skull with straight long horns. I heard him screaming; “What happened to me!? What they did to me!?” and he kept screaming like that while Mikey looked at him worried, trying to reach his panicking brother, taking hold on his arms in assuring way. Donatello or Leo stood at their side a bit more further away silent. Next turtles, Raphael back in his original form, were in train and some older lady escorted them in secret room inside the train where turtles could travel without worrying about being seen. It was actually very big and wide room. Raphael sat on the floor hugging his legs, feeling bad and guilty for falling asleep which allowed those bad guys to take Rita. His brothers could see and feel it how strongly Raphael blamed himself but they said nothing to comfort or assure him that they would get her back while keeping their distance.

#text #tmnt #tmnt2003 #dream #neis dream #Raphael #Leonardo #Donatello #Michelangelo #Rita #anthro female fox #horror #not for sensitive people #gore #just in case #because of Raphael's second form #so to say #10.2.2019

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cavalier-life · 6 years

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Day 8 - Sharing Traditions

Prompt is here. This one came out of an idea that I had, and... poor Jax got to be the one who experienced it.

“What's it like being raised as a Jedi?” Lyorek's question was idly offered, but there was genuine enough interest in his tone to catch Jaxan's attention. They were alone in Nox's catastrophically cluttered 'office' space – since her injuries, she had been in the medical bay, and keeping up with her work had fallen on Jaxan's 'To Do' list. The room still looked like a plasma grenade had been set off in the middle of it, but the young Jedi had been slowly organizing everything in a more sensible fashion, whenever he could get a little time away from her gimlet gaze.

He paused in his work and set down the tablet he'd been categorizing, dark eyes flickering towards Lyorek. The Zabrak sat on a pile of flimsi sheets and sketches, having shoved the datapads out of his way before flopping down on the corner of the desk. Like a huge black cat, he sprawled comfortably, legs kicking in midair, poking thoughtfully at an engraved round stone. Jaxan picked it up, tucking it safely into a storage case so the Inquisitor didn't accidentally knock it to the floor. It wouldn't be the first time, and Nox -always- blamed Jaxan if Lyorek broke something, as if he'd failed to properly babysit the Zabrak's bored tendency towards fidgeting. “That's somewhat of a vague question. What part of it are you curious about?”

Lyo's sulky expression at having the artifact pulled out of his grasp melted into a thoughtful expression, his red and black features squishing up into a 'thinking' look that made Jaxan laugh out loud at the obvious exaggeration for his benefit. The Zabrak flashed him a quick, playful smile, and elaborated, “Well.. tell me about something.. typical. Traditional. What did your Master have you do to teach you?”

Jaxan leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the arm, remembering his Master. Then he chuckled. “Oh. You'll like this one. My master was big on peaceful solutions, and he preferred for me to find them whenever possible. I'd been struggling with my combat training,” the Jedi began, pausing to add slyly, “Something that I'm sure astonishes you.”

“Shocking! But I'll assume you're telling the truth, just the same. Please, continue,” Lyorek said expansively, making a sweeping gesture with one black-clad arm.

“Why, thank you,” Jax replied in a teasing tone. “He sent me to see to the defense of an area that the native uxibeasts use for their calving ground. The young were being picked off extensively by the manka cats that were moving into the area, and they were led by a big, old female cat who was too canny to be caught or driven away. However.. he told me that killing the cats wasn't a viable option, that another group would just move in. My master wanted me to find a solution that didn't involve violence.”

Lyorek snorted rudely. “That's ridiculous. Killing the female probably would have driven out the others. It would have accomplished the goal quickly and efficiently,” the Sith pointed out, his booted feet clunking rhythmically against the side of the desk as he swung his legs.

“Easy isn't always right, Lyo,” Jaxan replied, reaching out and laying one hand on Lyo's knee. The Zabrak stilled his legs after a moment, then rested his gloved hand atop Jax's. “The point was to think about the best solution for all the parties involved, not just the simplest one. Many masters set such tasks for padawans. It forces us to be creative in our methods.”

“You're certainly creative.” Lyorek gave him a quietly amused look, his fingers squeezing Jaxan's hand. “So what did you do?”

“I went to the library, and I read about uxibeasts, and about mankas. And then I went in search of a male manka. I thought.. maybe.. I could calm him enough to get him to spray in the area. Mark his territory, you know? They spray.”

“... what do they spray?” Lyorek slid off the desk, and Jaxan winced as several important documents slid to the floor with him. But the Zabrak came to crouch beside his seat, his arms resting across his thighs, listening to the story curiously with bright red-gold eyes focused on the Jedi's face, and Jax put aside the worry about Nox's research. He could pick it up later.

“Urine. It's how they mark their hunting areas. So I figured.. if I could make a male come spray there, the female would back down with her own group, not wanting the young to be killed by a hostile male,” Jaxan continued, laughing at Lyorek's disgusted expression. “I know, but.. it was the only thing I could think of at the time. It didn't -quite- work out as I'd hoped, though. I had him calm, and he seemed to be listening, though I can't say how much he really understood what I was trying to communicate to him through the force. I was projecting calm, and trying to picture what I needed, but I think I wasn't exactly clear. Because he sprayed -me-. A lot.”

Lyorek stared at him for a moment, then started to laugh. Jaxan sighed, but it wasn't as if there wasn't a good reason for the mockery. He remembered that moment, and his shock, and he started to laugh too, shaking his head.

“There was nothing for it but to strip off my soaking wet clothes – he'd gotten me pretty much from head to mid-thigh – and use them to smear the urine up at the height his markers would have been. So I went all around the uxibeast calving grounds, reeking of manka piss, scrubbing my ruined robes over the trees and rocks in the area. When I came back to the enclave, everyone avoided me and laughed at me, and my master took one look and serenely told me to seek enlightenment with several bars of soap before returning to his presence.”

Lyorek was pretty nearly in tears by this point, leaning on Jaxan's knees, making deep, choked snickers in the back of his throat. “Did you pass your test?” he finally managed, still chuckling, scrubbing the back of one hand over his eyes.

“I did. My master was impressed by my dedication. But he did send me back to the baths twice before he'd let me tell him about it. Apparently manka urine has an extremely powerful scent, and I still smelled badly.” Jaxan ducked his blonde head, grinning self-consciously. “My robes were burned, though.”

Leaning up, Lyo knotted his hand into the Jedi's tan robes, pulling him down closer to his face. “A Zabrak might have just assumed you had a particularly pungent pheromone scent,” he teased, before closing the distance between them and claiming a kiss. “I don't think you want to hear about our.. traditions, though. Most Sith stories can be summed up with '.. and then I killed him/her/it' and that's about all there is to it.”

Jaxan traced his fingers between the curved arches of Lyorek's small horns, the pads of his digits trailing up each bony protrusion, feeling the distinctive ridges and structure of each one. The Zabrak closed his eyes, a pleased, even relaxed expression coming across his striking features. “You worked for Nox though, didn't you?”

“Mmhm. For years. We've been together since a short time after I left the Academy and came to Kaas City. She ascended to the Dark Council, and I went with her. I would never have gotten to that level of influence without her. Not on my own.”

“I've spent enough time with Darth Nox to know that she has.. some.. odd interests.”

“I did have to climb a cliffside once. It was on Yavin Four, and she sent me straight up a cliffside with a bag over my shoulder and told me not to come back if I wasn't successful,” Lyorek admitted, a faint smile curving his lips as he laid his head down on Jaxan's knees, letting the Jedi stroke his smooth-skinned head and touch the horns arrayed in distinctive patterns.

“Successful at what, exactly? Finding her some kind of strange artifact? Unlocking an ancient Sith mechanism?”

“Gizkas.” The single word was delivered with some evident venom. “And let me just say.. those damn things might like -you-, but they sure don't like me. I nearly fell off the side of the cliff twice climbing down with two screaming gizkas stuffed in a sack, and they bit me in every piece of my body they could reach, and it seemed a few times like there wasn't anything they couldn't reach,” Lyorek relayed dryly, and pointed helpfully. “They very nearly made me useless to the base in general and you in particular.”

Jaxan laughed, spreading his fingers, touching as many of the horn protrusions as possible with each fingertip. “They know you don't like them, that's all.”

“They're vicious little creatures, nothing but teeth and legs.”

“What were you meant to learn from it?” Jaxan asked, curiously.

Lyorek snickered, opening his eyes to look at the Jedi. “Nothing. Either I'd die or I'd bring her the gizkas. I guess if you need a deeper lesson, it was.. don't die. That applies to a Sith's entire life. Don't die. Don't anger the wrong person. Don't flirt with a Dark Council member's mistress.”

Feeling a swell of affection and understanding, Jaxan made a beckoning gesture, and Lyorek got up, straddling the Jedi's lap in the chair, his dense muscled form heavier than it looked, solid and firm against him as he wrapped his arms around the Inquisitor. “Those seem like decent lessons to have learned. Perhaps she was looking out for you more than you realized, Lyo.”

“You just want to see the good in everyone,” Lyorek retorted dismissively. “You're seeing something that doesn't exist in Nox.” But Jax could see the idea sink into the Zabrak's thoughts, his eyes growing thoughtful as he cupped Jaxan's face in his hands, kissing him with more heat than previously.

It was enough to have planted the idea. Lyorek's life had been very different from his, and Jaxan knew that and respected that the harder upbringing might have made the Inquisitor into the man he was now, someone that had a lot of hidden layers to him. Jax liked that about him; he was interesting, and complex, and always surprising. Even so, it never hurt to let him see that there was another way. And he was grateful that Lyo had shared something about himself that wasn't superficial.

Maybe it meant something.. more could be possible between them, someday.

#30 day prompt #challenge #otps #oc: Jaxan #oc: Lyorek #swtor #jedi #sith #sith inquisitor #zabrak

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phoena12 · 6 years

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rough draft for a thing i’m writing mmmmmmmmm

The drone of passing cars a horrid symphony to her ears, monotone and dull and so damnably loud, she wanted to put an end to the endless traffic and possibly punch the guy in the red car, who apparently doesn’t know how to use a horn, the constant beeping of it a sound created in the deepest depths of hells and gifted to this mortal realm as a means to make her suffer further. She wouldn’t put it past the universe. The people were many in these parts, pushing past her as if she weren’t there at all and, if it should matter at all to them, yell at her for being in the way, because obviously she was and obviously , from her deep set scowl and analytic yet fearful eyes she so wanted to be here. The sky of course bore no sunshine onto this foul and smog filled place, thick grey clouds as far as she could see, which wasn’t far due to the high rise building’s blocking most of her view. Why did humans have to build such tall structures? To make themselves feel bigger than the world and all the creatures in it? Or perhaps, she mused, it was just an excuse to flaunt their prowess and success high up in the skies, far above those unworthy of such power, as they simply lived their lives in a waking and free manner. Their being and importance slowly dwindling out as they age, like a summer bloom come to life and as the days go by, it’s slow decay of the body a thing unnoticed by those passing by. God she hated the city, it made her think too much, the toxic air a bitter taste in the back of her throat that made her want to retch with each breathe. She pulled up her hoodie, trying to breathe in as little air as need be and stalked forward across the gum spattered road. People were disgusting.

There was just too much life and too much going on around her that her wits were a little scrambled. She had come here hoping to find some food, her rations of hand caught fish had quickly diminished as the scaled delicacy had migrated further along the river, and fretfully so she seemed to be having little to no luck at finding a new source of food. She did have options but they were not the best. She could go to a store, fill her backpack with food and book it outta there, however, the last time she did that the store owner caught her and chased her three blocks and, despite the gnawing ache that had become a constant, she had flung her bag at the man and continued to flee. She really missed that bag, it had so many pockets and made scavenging a little easier.

Her second option was to go to a food bank and, well, get some food. And normally this would be an easy feat, just a walk in the park. A piece of cake. Just walk into the place, grab what she could, thank the staff and be swiftly on her way again. So simple. And yet she still managed to get into some form of trouble despite the process being so straightforward. In hindsight it was a little of her fault (just a little) that she happened to punch one of the staff members at the food bank. He just kept asking so many questions and when he pointed to an article, a picture of her baby face below a ‘missing child headline’, did she really have much of a choice? Ok, probably yes but she panicked and thought slamming her fist into his unknowing face was a good idea at the time. Now when she thought about it she just felt mortified and embarrassed of the situation but if some random guy had recognised her then anybody could and she was not willing to give anybody a chance to do so.

Her third and least likely to happen option was to seek out fellow street rats and ask for aid. It had worked for in the past, the most unlikely people, covered in bruises and too many clothes that had numerous tears and holes, offering her some food and water in small quantities. Further along the road, after been given a stale roll of bread, she surmised that is was her age that made folks give her their hard earned necessities. Nowadays she hunted and foraged for herself, without the aid of others to rely on.

She scowls as she bumps into a man, his cup partially slipping out of his hand as he takes a hasty step sideways to prevent from falling down. He catches his cup and barks at her, only to be met with a sea of people, a few giving a glance to the man and some raising an eyebrow at his shout, wondering if the remark were for them. She chuckles a little, her hair coming loose from its short ponytail and swaying to the side of her face as she ducks back out from hiding behind a trashcan, continuing her walking.

She remembers the people that helped her, the ones that were willing to give her some form of aid, even if they were a bit unconventional for a child her age at the time. Like the old lady that lived below a highway bridge, her body crooked and bent from her sitting position as, naïve as a child is, she asked if the lady was ok. She huffs a sigh that could be either a chuckle of exhale of air at remembering the old birds reaction, thinking she were there to steal her things she awoke with a screech and flailing limbs, babbling threats to the crying child before her. She doesn’t recall why the lady had given up her squawking and beckoned her closer, the old lady’s bony fingers coming to rest upon her shaking head and ask her ‘what was she doing here’ and ‘where were her parents’ and so many more questions that she couldn’t remember anymore. It took a time before she had let her stay with her. It took even less time for her die. She remembers the assurances that the old lady had given her and the soft lullaby she sung for her each night. She hadn’t known her long but the memory brought up a bittersweet melancholy in her. She swallows the hurt that rides her in harsh waves.

She remembers another that helped her. A man of middling years that she met in her pre-teen years upon her first real trek out into the countryside, his beard his most dominant and unruly feature and one he prized above everything else. She wondered if he had a better life before being holed up in a makeshift shack. Honestly she was rather impressed with the structural integrity of the thing because being made out of wooden planks and some plastic sheets didn’t seem safe and all that formidable in the slightest. Yet, after coming across him stuck in a ditch and helping him out of said ditch, whilst throwing insults at his embarrassed predicament of course, he had allowed her to stay in his home for the night as thanks. They shared food and stories and, for a short time, she felt safe. Morning had come swiftly and upon wakening she was met with a dagger stuck into an upright log, pinning a note in place. She had gained not only a weapon and some food but a backpack as well. She still had the dagger to this day, securely fastened to her hip in its leather sheath, the backpack sitting loose around her shoulders. She came back to the same place again some years after that initial first contact and found the sound structure to be broken and bare. No trace of any other living being to be found around the area and no trace of the man. She never did see him again.

She’s lost in thought yet again as she trips over the legs of a bundled up person, the mass of clothing on their body making her unable to tell what gender she was dealing with. The person curses at her, voice gruff and scratchy, and thrashes to get up from his confines, the glint of a blade catching her eyes as bright almond eyes lock onto her. Mismatched teeth snarling and a vicious set of wrinkles that doesn’t have her thinking twice as she begins a slow jog down the paved street and around the corner into a side alley, where she huddles close behind a series of dumpsters. She breathes heavily and slowly, fear coursing in her blood and heart racing. She hated the city and despite there being a handful of people that had helped her on her way, there was a city full of those that would do the exact opposite.

She loathed the city, so full of people and sounds and too many dangers to count that it made her head swirl with the effort. it was filthy here, far more than the country side, with clouds of despair constantly rolling across an otherwise empty and desolate sky, the people a marching and zombie like race, so wrapped up in their lives that getting from A to B was all that mattered. The sound here was constant, not like the soft, gentle breeze that whispered amongst the trees or roll of water in a river as it courses its life to wherever. No, it was loud and obnoxious, a buzzing and a beeping, a ticking and a honking, it just never stopped. The smells were either rancid or potent in her opinion and her nose hadn’t stopped running since she got here. She much preferred the faint smell of flowers on the wind or the raw scent of the earth below her feet.

All in all she didn’t intend to stay here long, just enough to get her by for a couple of days until she could make it further out. It was just for a day. All she had to do was get food and then get out of here. Speaking of such, taking in her surroundings and noting the dumpsters were half laden she decides for a fourth option and, slipping off her backpack and hiding it behind a turned over trashcan, she goes for a dive. It’s not the best way to get food and certainly not the most hygienic but when you’re desperate you don’t really have a choice. It takes her a time to procure some food but she does, a half-eaten apple and unopened bag of crisps her best finds, accompanied by a bag full of crumbs and half a can of soda. Who the hell throws away a perfectly good bag of crisps?? She thinks the person may have been clinically insane to do so.

She stuff the items into her back pack and goes to sling it about her shoulders, happy with her haul, but a glint of light catches her eyes from the corner. She looks further down the alleyway where the source of light came from but only sees a stack of empty boxes to the back, one side falling down. Curiosity gets the better of her and so she heads over to see what caught her attention. Silently she hopes it’s a weapon of sorts or maybe a discarded phone but upon coming to the boxes and searching through the contents, she finds nothing. Well that was a bummer. She turns to walk away, getting halfway through the alley when the light comes back again. She swings her head around hoping to catch sight of whatever it was. Nothing. Just the same scenery. She narrows her eyes and utters a soft “what”? Was her eyesight going bad? She sure hoped not. She straightens up and, once again, she goes to turn away but the light comes back. It flickers in and out, like a spark, it lights up in a different colours. First blue, then red, pink and back to blue, each time the light getting brighter. Well this was sure as hell weird and ok, she might be,

A, losing her vision, or,

B, going insane.

She wouldn’t be surprised if both were to happen or just one but the light suddenly stops flickering out of nowhere and she is left with a feeling of anxiety, the air seeming to have grown heavier and makes her hair stand on end. She pushes her hood back to get a better view of what she may or may not have seen until a bright zap of light suddenly explodes in her vision, making her drop her backpack.

“Sweet Jesus Mary fuck!” she exclaims lady like, rubbing her hands across her blurry eyes and blinking a few times.

She’s not prepared for the sight. A portal of sorts stands before her, ominous and glowing, it switches from faint hues of pink and blue and it swirls with a childish glee. Almost beckoning. She squints at it, not really comprehending what was in front of her and in all due fashion, throws up her hands and proclaims “fuck this!”.

She walks steadfastly away from the portal, forgetting her backpack among the overwhelming anxiety that wraps its icy and windy grip about her. It takes her an awkward time to realise that she hasn’t made it out of the alleyway, which is odd because she knows the alley isn’t this long and it’s also a little weird that no one has come to investigate this strange and rather unwanted phenomenon. She eventually looks to her feet and realises that despite her fast pace, she isn’t moving. She blanches a little and looks back towards the portal, which now seems to spinning in the other direction. Slowly at first she moves backwards, she tries walking forward again but the more she tries the quicker she goes back.

It is with undying certainty that she thinks this is how she dies. Swallowed up by a colourful portal whilst strangers just walk on by without a single glance. Seriously, how do people not see this? She tries calling out for help but its to no avail. She tries to run but it doesn’t work. She grabs onto the side of a dumpster but it doesn’t take long for her fingers to slowly slip and her grip to be gone as, with last mortified look at the world, she disappears through the void with a pop.

A silence follows her departure, the world she knew turning like it always has and the people that lived in this loathed place none the wiser to the beginning of it all.

#rough draft #just ignore pls #im re reading as im writing tags and there are too many errors lol #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #*whispers* why do i do this to myself

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thecoroutfitters · 7 years

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Unlike chickens and some other animals, I was raised that there are milk cows and there are meat cows. We had Jerseys to milk and red and black Angus for meat. Where I came from, there really weren’t many cows in that area that were good for both meat and milk.

Now that I’m out of the little town that I was raised in, I realize that there is a whole wide world of cows out there that are great for using for both milk and meat.

Since we’re the kings and queens of multi-purpose living, and most of us don’t have a ton of space to have several of each type of cow, we need to cull the herd a bit. See what I did there?

My goal over the next few paragraphs is to lay out some options for you so that you can have the best of both worlds.

Before we get into actual breeds, know that as a small homesteader, a lesser-known, miniature breed may be better for your needs than a mainstream cow because they’re often bred for one trait or another.

They may also be bred to live a commercial lifestyle, thriving on grain and hay rather than foraging. In short, they may be less hardy, and therefore less suitable for a sustainable situation that requires low-maintenance animals.

In short, we don’t want picky cattle that cost a fortune to feed and don’t meet our needs. We need a cow that breeds easily, because we want more meat and more milk. An open (non-bred, without a calf) cow is a cow that isn’t earning her keep in any way, and that won’t do. So what if she gives a ton of milk and produces a big, beefy calf when she calves if she doesn’t breed consistently?

What I’m saying is that what commercial farmers value in a cow may not necessarily be what we value. Remember, they value volume. They want a cow that gives a ridiculous amount of milk regardless of whether she needs expensive feeds and supplements to do so. We want a cow that provides a decent, constant supply of milk without needing expensive feed.

After all, what would we seriously do with five or six gallons of milk per day per cow?

So, who cares what Big Ag says is the best cow? As usual, what’s good for them isn’t necessarily what’s good for us.

I’ve done quite a bit of research lately and have come to the conclusion that the miniature cow route may be the route to go for us little guys. Adequate milk and meat for our needs, half the feed, and half the space; it’s a great idea. If you’re looking for a full-sized cow though, these first two may be good for you.

Forgotten Lessons of Yesterday

The American Milking Devon

These cattle were originally tri-purpose: milk, meat, and draft work. They’re thought to be the first English breed to be imported to the states in colonial times. There’s a farm called Flack Family Farm in Vermont ran by Doug Flack and his family that raise these cows, and they sound like the perfect cow for what we need.

They’re a smaller breed, with three-year-old steers weighing in at 600-750 pounds, hanging. They’re also hardy and do well in hot climates, but do fine in the cold, too – obviously, because these cows are in Vermont!

The cows give 35-40 (5 gallons or so) pounds of high butterfat milk per day while living on wild pastures (clover, orchard, bluegrass, and vetch) with no grain supplementation. Wow, this cow is sounding great! His cows lactate from mid-May to early November and are milked twice a day in the spring and once in late summer and fall.

And how about longevity? According to the interview I read, he has a 14 year old cow that’s still lactating! Regarding cheese, the average milk cow milk converts about 10 percent of their fluid milk to cheese, but the Milking Devon can convert almost twice that. That’s a crazy big deal.

The meat is beautifully marbled and is purportedly just as good or better than traditional meat cattle, and the steers are raised on pasture. This is a great way to have a cow that feeds your family and provides a dual source of income to help support your farm.

Holsteins

A Holstein is a mainstream cow that’s a great balance of milk and meat.

Be warned: she’s considered a milk cow and is the top-producing milk cow in the industry. Expect up to nine gallons of milk a day. This may be good if you only want to keep two cows (in case one doesn’t breed one year). Still, that’s a LOT of milk, but you’ll have plenty of friends, and you can always can it.

The meat is said to be good, and since the Holstein is a large breed, you won’t need to raise more than one or two calves a year for meat. A note though – they eat a ton! Apparently, they aren’t great at converting feed to meat, so they require 10-12 percent more feel than the average beef cow, or milk cow for that matter.

Still, I wanted to throw them in the hat because they’re easy to come by and do produce plenty of milk and meat.

There is a miniature version of them, but apparently the cute factor comes into play when contemplating eating them. It’s an option, though.

The Belfair

This miniature cow is a cross between some of the best of both worlds. It’s a 50-50 cross of a small Irish Dexter beef cow and a Jersey milk cow. The idea was to add some of the delicious butterfat of the Jersey, but to use the Dexter to pack some meat on its bony frame. Oh, and to take away the meanness of the Jersey bull.

It worked; the result is a cow that gives good meat and milk and is docile, with even the bulls exhibiting little to no aggression.

The Belfair produces about three gallons of high butterfat milk per day and beef up quickly at around four months. The breed is small so it has a smaller appetite. Actually, it’s been called the poor man’s cow because it produces milk and gains weight on inferior pasture. Nothing high-maintenance about these cows.

The Belfair looks like a beefy Jersey cow; blacks and browns ranging from mahogany to dun. Sometimes, there will be some white, and the cow has horns, The cow is 42-46 inches at the shoulder and is actually considered a mid-sized miniature breed for registration purposes, formally known as the Belmont.

Why Go with Miniature Cows?

We just talked about the Belfair, which is a miniature cow breed, as is the Dexter, and the more I research, the more I think that miniature cows are worth looking at for those of us with little space to dedicate to cattle. I’ve also noticed that there’s a good selection of dual-purpose cows in the miniature pool. They were pretty much bred to suit our needs.

Midsize cows measure 42-48 inches at the hip

Standard cows measure 36-42 inches at the hip

Micro-miniature cows are less than 36 inches at the hip

That puts them at one-third to one-half the size of a regular cow. As a life-long farm girl, I have to say that this is an appealing idea, because, if for no other reason, they make smaller piles and would be easier to manage physically, especially for those of you new to milking. There’s nothing to make you grouchy faster than getting shoved out of the way by a 1000-lb animal when it’s 30 degrees and muddy.

Here are some reasons to go miniature:

They won’t drown you in milk, but you won’t run out, either. A mini cow will give you a gallon or a gallon and a half per day, more than enough for milk and butter.

You only need half an acre to an acre per cow

They’re 25-30 percent more feed-efficient and require about a third of what a regular cow eats. You’ll buy less and haul less.

One miniature cow will feed a family of four for several months

There are a few good dual breeds out there, in addition to the Belfair. The Zefu gives about a gallon of high butterfat milk per day, but from all accounts, you may have trouble butchering them for meat because it would be akin to eating the family dog since they’re so friendly.

Miniature cow breeds are certainly an attractive option for small homesteaders for all of the reasons that we’ve discussed. They’re widely available, but appear to be kind of regional, so what’s available in one part of the country may not be available in another. It’s an intriguing proposition – all of the benefits of having a cow with half of the downfalls, or maybe a third!

If you have any experience with miniature cows, or have a suggestion for a good dual-purpose cow of any size, please share with us in the comments section below.

Also, if you’d like to learn how to tan your hides, butcher your meat, can your milk, make butter, or can your beef, take a look at my book, Forgotten Lessons of Yesterday. I’ve compiled a ton of useful, diverse information so that you have it right at your fingertips, plus there are five free guides that are valuable in their own rights. Check it out!

This article has been written by Theresa Crouse for Survivopedia.

from Survivopedia Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

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autolovecraft · 7 years

Text

Indeed, it was a chaos of daemon cacophony.

The high clouds far below him the lesser ones than in valleys, since there was a castle beyond all mortal thought, and also to warn the people roam reverently at will. There were many of them went down to the cavern of flame to the fungous plain, till at length by means of sight toward higher ledges of the malodorous place.

The party could land him at last what indeed they existed, were not the weakening of the State House on the rift where it was not chained, but Carter felt that their shape suggested the huts of granite and bleak stone villages at a farmhouse well for a journey. It was dark when the ghouls still bore the spears and javelins he collected, and Carter knew clearly that they were beaten in advance, and clustered and bulbous domes for which messengers had been.

Presently two yellowish-red eyes and long-vanished morning in Ulthar.

Then, when your nurse first wheeled you out in the hill-people that Carter sought a forest pool and cleansed himself of the darker powers, eager to drag before his masters a mortal dreamer could have glorified no suitable or wholesome gods, and in a bundle as if conscious of having outdistanced the ghoulish leaders; telling what might befall him, smirking sinfully and hinting that it bears an iron ring three feet wide. He felt from the temple or seen the evil flame.

There now ensued a mighty longing for the absence of ghoulish meeping shewed that the speed of the Elder Ones, and Carter saw many low, broad, round cottages in fields of grotesque whitish fungi. Look! Save for the legends of Ngranek, and the ghasts to their native deeps. When the light was ample and the awful voids outside the ordered universe, where are the slaves of the ornate galleons of fragrant cedar and calamander riding gently at anchor, and Carter saw that he might sail back to these things Carter glibbered his message rapidly and explicitly to the river. Of the length of Inquanok, whose vertical side he would. He had known that in all Barth's dreamland was at once sent up as his judgment struggled with his hands.

He also advised Carter to the bank of Oukianos, who had shanghaied Carter on their dark ship anchored beside a jutting quay of spongy rock a nightmare cloud above the meadows across the daisied fields toward a peaked gable which he tied his yak to a more comfortable position. And the Shantak-birds, and wished he had aided the ghouls and the almost-humans had ruled so anciently before the leaders of the corridors leading outside. But when they gave Carter a guest in his blankets before going to work in their respective directions, while at the throat of an antique Pharaoh, gay with prismatic robes and crowned with a certain hellish familiarity; and win from them, unless suddenly interrupted or deflected, bring him after a while he thanked them kindly; and as Carter had come to that solitary moon-things in the latter case being sucked quickly under by certain submarine lurkers whose presence was indicated only by dim rumor, and to realize that the victim would burst was highly uncertain just who or what had occurred. On the second night he spent in a style unknown to one with full nine-tenths of their hideous laps rose evil Shantaks of elephantine bulk, but found that they go to leap and gambol on the end all of delicate black with clouds and mists and the gulfs of heaven to Kadath's familiar towers and monoliths arose, but went to sleep in his own footing as best he could so easily lead back at will. Carter come, and was said to lie, so that the rock were heard.

The headlands were prolongations of the faceless flutterers, Carter could see so many legends that he was shooting dizzily downward in the party which had sneaked after Carter to disguise as a sub-lieutenant in that sovereign assembly of Zoogs.

Trembling in waves that golden wisps of nebula made weirdly visible, there issue from the three rescued ghouls suggesting a raid on the docks.

When the ship ahead to more healthy parts of dreamland he knew he might wish, and all through the cold table-land. Though ghasts cannot live in real light, and felt sure that any person now living had beheld that carven face. Presently two yellowish-red eyes and racking his memory for clues to where unknown Kadath, had decided to take him thither without trouble; high above the ghouls, and when the night would find the gods, and grotesque fragments of monuments—and below it a great city there, or because of things wafted over the rail Carter saw that this merchant had now floated ahead a trifle from one of the god of Oukianos, who in Carter's latter dreams had reigned alternately in the dark betwixt the cliffs and boulders of an Anglo-Saxon from Boston, Massachusetts, instead of from Cornwall. At some of which dim legends tell, and fled precipitately from a row of tripods on the island of unwholesome secrets, whose name is not remembered. Very slowly and deliberately. But dusk was now seen to be described. The captain took Carter to disguise as a simple boy in that far land there broods a hint very far away, since the wood, including the terrible kingdom of the head of the dancers became tinged with a golden throne. Verily, it was a brisk meep from Pickman the whole green-litten and limitless chamber the hideous blast of a ghoul of some of the isle of Oriab; and matters assumed a very difficult and barren. These are the advance guard and battle steeds of the great dark wood on the farther and farther within the circle of standing rocks and untraveled sands. Other Gods were there, it was caught up and borne away into the distance those terrible squatting gargoyles that were mountains till some titan hand carved fright into their virgin rock.

Evidently the steersman threaded his way up.

Then, just as well as by day, and saw that the Great Ones were not good to behold the marvelous sunset city which lived and died before the victim toppled at once apparent, but he did not please them. Horrible were the jewelers. But over the golden fields that flank the Skai.

Of these things to the giant foundations of the steep roofs and overhanging upper stories and numberless chimney-pots from old tales that he was likely to gain in the cavern of flame, but the farmer and his wife would only make the Elder Ones with poise and dignity, flanked and followed him from your window on Beacon Hill. There is Antares—he could so easily lead back at will. Then one very ancient Zoog recalled a thing completely was not as badly off as Carter drank it ceremoniously a very large hollow tree. Betwixt the gray twilight sky, and mindless, shapeless blasphemies of outer space hold sway on unremembered Kadath.

And when night comes they climb tall terraces in the outer voids. As they descended there appeared in the form of a far-off melody, droning in faint chords that our own dreamland and the city awoke; and his grandson whilst others of the olden days and the ghouls. Lofty and horrible those titan gargoyles towered above him the lurid light glowed from classic mantel and carven entrance to the marvelous sunset city, with faces of those who have not come out when the thud of something on the city wall and bore upon them such a prize. Look! Far above the air and the city wall and arranged his kinfolk in the dark. All these things. It was a dignified Maltese; and were painted inside with nameless and frantic though the sun shone scorchingly in it glowed the daemon legate who had shanghaied Carter on their dark ship, getting them little by little quarries and excavations where some choice vein or stream of horned and tailed and bat-like into planetary space. The number of malodorous moonbeasts about that marvelous sunset city. And all the blessings they had attended to the grottoes of the Gug would occasionally bite into one of them seized Carter and his grandson whilst others of the second day he rose with the Shantak-birds, and the gray twilight sky, sometimes shining clear, sometimes caught at the orders of Nyarlathotep. Randolph Carter, when your nurse first wheeled you out in the valley below Leng, and one-time rescuer at the throat of an Anglo-Saxon from Boston, and the traveler was able to converse with Carter in grunts and monosyllables, helped out now and then bodies fell from the waking world. Carter questioned the old chief of the harbor water with a pshent of unknown Kadath in the form of a few moments a range of black earth, and all the northern twilight to their respective directions, while their left hands grasped long thin silver trumpets which they had attended to the north. Ships came from those huts and the reflections of those impassable mountains beyond which simple folk disliked it.

After much persuasion the ghoul. Surmounting now the low hills on his chest. The upper parts of the marvelous sunset city. Easier even then the way to the enchanted wood to Dylath-Leen, who had seen then, the horned fliers would first of all the sleek cats of dreamland. It is understood in the sky for climbing merely the known peak of Kadath lies, but a few moments a range of black mountains, then, had decided to return to their chosen victims.

Then in the aperture.

And there might have, waiting in the fashion of gods that Carter knew that hopeless labyrinths of stone looking on the third day they spoke among themselves in the taverns and public places where the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah in the cold waste on this side, shaded by bony protuberances overgrown with coarse hairs. But when Carter heard of the night-gaunts, and recalled vague whispers of a land party and a gate with a yak and stood grinning nearby, and for a moment of hesitation the new comers silently turned and descended again the sickly glow of a level or downward course.

The loathsome bird now settled to the sight. Ancient sailors in Dylath-Leen with the horrible stone villages on the noisome High-Priest sad with inner secrets. And the Shantak will talk to the housetops of our moon's dark side.

One moment he was groping slowly over the brink. When you draw nigh the city of beauty and unearthly immanence he felt sure, but only for the onyx castle.

So by night in those frescoes was shewn the returning tracks of any voice.

And in time he came to common ears only as strange cadence and obscure melody. Half the cats were pouring out of the wood, and hovered about these things Dylath-Leen, but Carter and the mad planets reel.

Yogash the Black will help you on the moon was not to seek that sunset city, and its lofty pinnacled belfry resting on a jagged silhouette which told of its prey.

#H.P. Lovecraft #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath #1926 #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath week

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evolutionsvoid · 5 years

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The Mossy Sleeper is a denizen of temperate rainforests, a habitat filled with rain, fog and moss. This species is not found anywhere else, as it relies heavily on these specific conditions to survive. It lives on the forest floor, where it hides and hunts among the ferns, shrubs and moss. Though it is large in size (with adults being eight to ten feet in length, and four feet at the shoulder), it can be a surprisingly difficult creature to locate! This is because the Mossy Sleeper is a master of camouflage! It cloaks itself so well that for the longest time people could not properly identify what type of animal it was! With bony growths, a quadrupedal gait, long tail, toothy snout and lazy lifestyle, many believed that the Mossy Sleeper was a reptile. While some may wonder why no one noticed the lack of scales, you have to remember that this species coats itself from head to tail with layers of moss, algae and debris! They shroud themselves in a cloak of vegetation, one that is so dense that it practically serves as an extra pelt! This kept observers from seeing their true bodies and from noticing the presence of hair. It turns out that this species is mammalian! Beneath all that greenery, the Mossy Sleeper has a specialized coat of fur that allows this incredible disguise to work. The outer most layer of hair is long and coarse, but it also appears to be absorbent. These factors cause the hair to quickly become tangled and damp, which serves as an excellent growth medium for algae and moss. The coarseness gives these growths something to hold onto, while the absorbent nature allows the hair to act as water reserves. The same goes for the patchy dermal armor that grows on its back and limbs. These too are coarse and porous, allowing all sorts of plant life to grow on top of them. In time, the Mossy Sleeper will become thoroughly coated in vegetation, with random debris becoming stuck in the growths for extra effect. By combining this green cloak with its slow lifestyle, the Mossy Sleeper can easily blend itself in with the surrounding landscape. The second part of its name should be a good hint at what speed this species lives on. Mossy Sleepers are quite lethargic and prefer to stay in one place for long periods of time. They can and will walk around, be they do so almost begrudgingly. A brisk walk can easily outpace them, as they slowly plod their way through the ferns and trees. What Mossy Sleepers really want to do is lay down on the ground and wait. They can sit in one spot for not just hours, but days and weeks on end. The near constant rain provides water, and their own veggie coat can provide food in a pinch. This shroud of moss and algae is what allows them to blend in with the rainforest floor. As they sit motionless, the growths shall reach the ground and they will become just like any other moss-covered log. Their bony growths further add to this effect, as their brown coloration and random shapes make them appear as branches and twigs. The growth of these protuberances are random and erratic, making it so that no two Mossy Sleepers will be identical. Their brittle consistency makes them a bit fragile, but these occasional breaks help change the Sleeper's silhouette over time. After laying and waiting for a few days, you will be hard pressed to pick them out of the landscape. Their breathing is quiet and they are great at remaining motionless. As some have said, you can only tell a Mossy Sleeper apart from a log when you wake up one morning and find that it has walked off! I can embarrassingly attest to this, as I too had a hard time tracking down a specimen. After hours of searching and coming up empty, I decided to take off my heavy pack and take a rest. I found a nice log to break at, and the spongy moss was almost as soft as a blanket! I laid on top to catch my breath and admire the glistening canopy above. I must have been pretty tired, as I apparently dozed off. I later awoke to an odd motion, as if I was bobbing down a river. Much to my surprise, it turned out my napping log was actually one of these creatures! My obnoxious violation of personal space must have irritated the Sleeper and it decided to move to a different spot. I couldn't believe my eyes! I was riding atop the very thing I sought for! I did my best to remain calm and not startle the poor beast, and eventually it came to a rest. From there I took my leave and dismounted. I think I stood there staring at the creature for hours, just so blown away by what just happened. It was a truly amazing experience! That was until I realized that my backpack and supplies did not make the trip with me. I had to retrace its steps to find my gear before dark fell or some pesky critters nabbed my food!

Speaking of food, the Mossy Sleeper is an omnivore. I would say it is an opportunistic omnivore, but that would imply too much energy and motivation. They are more like a "I will eat whatever happens to be around my face" type of creature. Ferns, fruits, nuts, rodents, lizards, insects and any other morsel is good enough for them. Their disguised bodies do well at fooling small critters, and they may dine on the creatures that try to use their bulk as a shelter. Though their large canines and horned carapace may give off a monstrous look, they are rather laid back and nonthreatening. I mean, do recall I accidentally slept on top of one! As for predators, the Mossy Sleeper has very few. Their disguise makes them difficult to find, both through sight and smell. Since they are coated in moss, debris and other crud, their own odor is masked. This same coat also serves as a means of defense. If something wants to run up and take a bite out of them, they will just get a mouthful of algae, moss and hair. The branch-like growths and brittle armor helps with this as well, taking the blow before it reaches any vulnerable flesh. With these layers, the Mossy Sleeper has time to retaliate, often striking with its heavy tail or taking a bite with its large fangs. Though their jaws are not super strong, they are capable of holding on for quite a long time. Their rather effective strategy is to simply grab hold with their teeth and then just sit there while the trapped beast tires itself out. Eventually their would-be attacker will regret its decision and seek to flee, at which the Sleeper will let them go. They will then limp off to lick their wounds, while the Mossy Sleeper claims its hard won nap. Though Mossy Sleepers are large and unique, they are often forgotten when it comes to the public mind. Funny enough, I believe it is its disguise that is to blame for this! Since they are hard to find or see, many tend to forget about them as they wander the rainforest. Even adding them to paintings or drawings can fail to garner attention, as their entire purpose is to blend in with the background. If you depict them resting and hidden, then you have a done a good job at representing them (though your audience may not notice). If you draw them up, obvious and mobile, though, you will draw the viewers eye but ignore the very thing that makes them interesting. It's a battle that is quite hard to win! The only real mention I have heard of Mossy Sleepers in the outside world is when I came across folk who wished to refer to these creatures as "Moss Dragons." I do not know their motivation for such a title change, but they were quite into the idea. I, however, was fully against it. The term "dragon" is already messed up enough as it is, and this species did not fit at all with the "Dragon Beasts." The only thing to come from this name change is to create the idea that this species is harmful or dangerous, and nobody wants that! Thankfully, the world chose not to care about this attempt, and I haven't heard a thing from it since. What I have run into, though, are local cultures that have given the Mossy Sleepers a far more fitting image. Due to their green growths and peaceful lifestyle, they shown as emissaries of nature and spirits of the earth. Through them, one can focus on their oneness with the natural world and seek to blend in with the air, earth and trees. In some cases, the Mossy Sleeper is seen as a creature of dreams. While it lays and rests, it is said that it moves on to a different plane, where it thrives and seeks. Those who are more attuned to the realm of dreams may be visited by this spirit, and it shall guide them to its hidden, sleeping body. There bthey may learn from the creature and further find themselves. It makes me wonder: what if you accidentally use one as a bed? Does that mean anything? Probably that I am a fool, but I hope for a more dignified answer. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------------------------------- The world needed some more mammals and I was happy to oblige!

#monster #creature #moss #art #drawing #mammal #disguise #camoflauge #beast

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