Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Mundane Creatures

    Five years ago Arnold K of Goblin Punch wrote a fantastic post which questioned our tendency to split our monsters into the mundane and the magical. The bulk of the post consists of subtle fantastical tweaks to mundane animals.

    I’m enamored with this idea. It’s easy to imagine a game setting of exclusively “mundane” flora and fauna, with few traditional monsters or magic items. Why give players a charm of speak with dead, if they could instead glean the same information by watching how a murder of crows eats the body? Why explore a goblin cave instead of a chimpanzee cave?


Here's my own personal list:

Antbear (vermilingua)

    Sages have often wondered how the humble antbear can subsist off ants and termites alone.  Their sticky, nimble tongues are not nearly long enough to reach the deep chambers of older colonies, yet an antbear can sit atop an anthill, slurping up droves of tiny crawlies for hours!  The same strategy employed by men wielding honey-coated saplings (called formards) quickly loses any effect. You see, it turns out the antbear produces a beautiful whistle through its long snout--too high pitched for the human ear. 

    The lovely lullaby that lures ants and termites so well has the very same effect on any creature that hears it. This rarely proves problematic, as antbears seldom grow to a size dangerous for a human. However, it's not unheard of for denizens of the Grey Dale to lose cats, chickens, or even children to old antbears. While tallow-stuffing the ears of your beloved pets and children won't save them from faeries, it certainly does block the song of the antbear.

Crow (corvus)

    Much maligned as an aggressive scavenger and an omen of death, the humble crow actually provides a valuable service to the living. He is a voyeur of fate.

    The traveler followed by a crow is right to fear for her life. The raucous bird is an omen--he follows the doomed to watch her death. Each step the traveler takes is one step closer to her fate, and the crow can smell her fate like the aroma of a pungent winter stew. Each decision adds another scent to the pot; staying a night at a friend's home adds the richness of intimacy, helping a farmer fix their wagon adds the sweet scent of kindness, and pressing on late into the night adds the savory tang of purpose. The crow may cackle and taunt her, unable to contain his glee, or he may remain a silent tail, afraid to influence fate and so deprive himself of a juicy meal.

    Why, then, do some dead attract crows numerous as flies, while others remain whole and untouched by corvid beaks, bloating like ripe fruit? Clever observers will realize that, while the traveler's path to her doom is like seasoning, the manner of her death determines the flavor of her flesh. These are some questions that live in the minds of a crow as he descends upon a body:

Who came to claim her spirit when she died, and where did they lead it?
Did her spirit linger in the meat too long, lending it's sourness to the flavor?
Did her god pluck her spirit out with haste, leaving the meat too dry?
Was her life too rich in contentment, rendering the flesh oily?

    The crow also has particular tastes, varying from those of his friends and family somewhat. While he may detest the crispness of the untested heart, his uncle may love it.

    By learning the preferences of our neighborhood crows, we can glean great insight into the lives of vagabonds and pilgrims, and all others whose remains are left untended.

Rabbit (sylvilagus)

Rabbits are strange creatures.

    A predator hides at the entrance to a rabbit warren until a cautious rabbit makes his way out. The predator strikes too slowly, and its quarry dives safely back inside!  If the hunter is inexperienced, they might  assume the rabbit will hide and reemerge when it's safer.  However, an experienced hunter knows the truth--their escaped dinner will never emerge from this entrance again.

    In reality, rabbits create warrens which are all indeterminately connected with each other. Also, rabbits are not intelligent enough to reliably navigate their vast mazes of fractal space. While not much is known about these warrens, some things are certain:
  1. There are far more entrances than there are rabbits.
  2. Any two specific entrances are less than 0.1% likely to connect.
  3. Different ingresses are more or less likely to be found from inside the warren.
    Practically, this means that certain rabbit holes can spit out 10, 20, 50 rabbits a day, while others are used only as entrances. Hunters often refer to these as "rabbit-spitters" and "rabbit-suckers".

Fox (vulpes)

    Fur trappers out West will warn you to never kill a thief caught red-handed. They'll tell you to take off that red hand to teach 'em a lesson, but to leave the culprit alive. This is because trappers are tired of dealing with foxes, and they don't want you making any more.

    Whether or not foxes are reincarnated criminals, they are impossible to trap.  The pads of their feet step on the air just above the ground, so weight-triggered traps don't work.  And they have a delicate bite that can steal the bait off a trigger.  No, foxes are greedy, so the only way to catch a fox is to bribe it.

Coyote (canis latrans)

    There is a myth about coyotes, that they always take a different route to their den to avoid being followed. What utter bullshit! The reason you can never find a coyote when you're looking for her is that she knows when you are thinking about her. The moment she crosses your mind, the coyote can smell and hear you, wherever you are.  And worse, if you're thinking about coyotes in general, all coyotes can sense you.  So, the only way to catch a coyote is to stumble across her, or if she catches you!

That said, there are a few successful coyote hunters out there.  Their ways are as mysterious as the animals they hunt.

Goose (anserinae)

Dozens of geese fly overhead to the South-West. Their V has a long left tail, curving inwards ever so slightly, and the leader of the formation slows down and speeds up rhythmically, causing a compression wave to travel through the legs of the V. What does it mean? Your great-grandparents might tell you it's an omen of a dry Springtime, but only a Goose-Augur can say for sure.

The formations flocks of geese make mid-flight are potent, and specific omens.  In contrast to the claims of many mundane augurs, there is no way to translate these omens except for the blessing of a Queen of Geese. And it is almost certain your town's augur has not received this blessing for a few reasons:
  1. Few people know how to identify a Queen.
  2. Geese are very violent.
  3. The Queen only bestows a blessing on someone with perfect courtly manners--a behavior unlikely to serve you well whilst being beaten to death by Geese.

A Queen of Geese is the only docile goose in a greater flock. In contrast with her vassals, she rigidly follows courtly etiquette, so if you manage to gain an audience, she will guarantee your safety for its duration.  However, every other goose and gander in the greater flock is sworn to protect her and very violent, so make sure you have an escape plan.

Deer (cervidae)

Try not drive too fast through town, or you'll spook the deer, and make an enemy of the local coydogs tasked with thinning their population. A surprised deer splits into anywhere between three and seven identical clones, which all run off together.   The best way to avoid spooking them is to whistle holiday jingles as you walk, because it's difficult to be scared when you're in the Christmas spirit.

Relatedly, Redbridge is looking for a new deerherd to take over for Carl who was run over by a car this past autumn. In the time since he passed, the county has been overrun with deer. They've eaten all of the foliage 7 feet high and lower, and the forest is suffering. If you see Hunter Marcus, please notify the Office of the Environment--he's suspected to have some involvement.

Hummingbird (trochilidae)

Hummingbirds come from faerieland. There are plenty more living there, but some come over in the light of dawn, and return at dusk. To follow one on its way home is nigh impossible, but will lead you to faerieland. Nobody know if it's possible to return.




Now I'm bored of staring at this list, so I'll publish it and come back for more.


More to Come!

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