Human Sundew Plant

I'm a graduate student studying biology. Among other things, this is where I talk about my D&D campaign setting: Icrade, the Teeming World.

[humansundewplant]

Sapient Mortal Species of the Teeming World

Stone Elf (Homo vitalis ssp. karakata)

This subspecies of elf is specialized for life underground. Sometimes called dark elves or cave elves, their body plan differs slightly when compared to the other elf subspecies such as swamp elves. They do adhere to the jellyfish-like appearance of other elves, but are generally shorter than their surface-dwelling kin, possibly due to the limited space of the winding caves they inhabit. They also produce a slippery mucus-like substance on their skin, which allows them to more easily navigate dangerous or claustrophobic caves. Their skin tones cover the breadth of the colors of stone - grey, black, brown, tan, and more. Many communities of stone elves are also bioluminescent - the product of many generations of cultivating glowing cave moss as a food source.

Stone elves, being adapted for life underground, require some adjustments to live on the surface, as many do in modern Icrade. Their eyes are very sensitive to light in order to see in dark underground environments, and are ill suited to sunlight. There are some solutions which alleviate this problem, however. The most widely accessible of them is a strip of semitransparent cave kelp tied around the head and over the eyes, which effectively filters out the harsher light. There is also specialized eyewear that serves the same purpose, but such pieces are less widely available.

Nhethyr, the Sunless City, is a surface environment in Nadore’s Rusted Desert designed for habitation by stone elves and other species better suited to underground life. During the day, an artificial night sky covers the city, created by a series of biomachine engines. These are deactivated at dusk and reactivated at dawn, enabling the city to exist under permanent night.

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Sapient Mortal Species of the Teeming World

Swamp Elf (Homo vitalis ssp. traskag)

Swamp elves were the progenitors of the elven ability to rejuvenate - they were suffused with the primordial vitality of the Uadra Swamp when they made it their home. All elves, regardless of their subspecies, carry this vitality with them still. If ever there was a progenitor species to the varied elves of modern Icrade, it likely most closely resembled swamp elves.

These elves generally have skin in shades of brown and green, sometimes with mottling for better camouflage. Many view swamp elves as uncivilized or wild, living outside the bounds of society, but this is largely inaccurate. It may be insular and somewhat obscured to outsiders, but civilization does exist in the swamps of Icrade. Swamp elves dig great pits to farm crayfish, snails, and mud crabs. Cattails grow in soil enriched by the ground shells of these animals, as do rice and dewberries and other plants of the world’s wetlands. Their cities are wide but not tall, traversed most often by boats through the marshes.

Swamp elves have an unmatched tolerance for augmentation - they are quite used to symbiosis already. They will often cultivate lichens, mosses or fungi on their own bodies, which has no ill effects on them.

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Sapient Mortal Species of the Teeming World

Elf (Homo vitalis)

Elves are set apart from most other mortal species by their extraordinary longevity, gained through their odd rejuvenation process. They are able to revert themselves into a juvenile state to avoid dying of old age. Biologically, elves are considered immortal, which may make their classification as mortals confusing. However, the actual likelihood of an elf living forever is miniscule. This biological immortality does not prevent death from any cause other than old age - an elf can still easily contract a fatal illness, die in battle, ingest poison, or trip and break their neck.

The elven process of rejuvenation takes between three and five days to complete. The frequency with which an elf requires it varies by individual, but the average is roughly two hundred years between each rejuvenation. During this process, a significant portion of the elf’s body mass is sloughed off to form a gelatinous cocoon-like structure and the remainder is repurposed to form a juvenile body. Some memories and learned abilities may be lost during the rejuvenation process.

Elves are often remarked to bear resemblances to jellyfish, at least in appearance - their skin is translucent, and adult elves have about their heads a rounded fleshy protrusion like the bell of a jellyfish, with thin ribbonlike tendrils flowing from it. Elves are also much lighter in weight than most other humanoids, with much of their bodily structure being provided by air absorbed through their skin. This can sometimes make elves appear to float rather than walk.

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Sapient Mortal Species of the Teeming World

Ektacite (Anthrorigomis mortalis)

Lowest among demons. Least of the leeches. This is the lot of the humble ektacite, though most other mortals simply call them demons. Among their demon kin, they are the only mortals, but they are also the only ones free from the purpose imposed upon all leeches (detailed below). Ektacites are the most humanoid of all the leeches as well, but they are clearly set apart from humans and other mortals by appearance - each has some clearly visible demonic feature. The most common of these are horns or antlers on the head, but they can include many other features like skin in unusual colors, compound eyes, chitinous plating over the skin, digitigrade legs with claws or hooves in place of feet, clawed hands, visible tusks or fangs, malformed or vestigial limbs like wings or tails, and more.

Like all leeches, ektacites originate from the flesh of Maimed Jur’gemith. As pieces of his flesh separate themselves and gain awareness, they are compelled to enter the world of mortals and take from its inhabitants to restore their progenitor. These leeches drink the blood, thoughts, souls and luck of mortalkind, and as they return to Jur’gemith, he is slowly healed. However, such practices are not without cost - Jur’gemith was forced to take in mortality alongside these restorative essences. To keep himself pure and immortal, he was forced to split off more pieces of himself, these containing the mortality he wished to separate himself from. These pieces are the ektacites, the mortal demons. They cannot rejoin with Jur’gemith, so they are freed from the purpose of all other leeches, yet still they feel a leech’s hunger - for blood or wealth or knowledge or any other desirable thing. It is their choice alone if they pursue it.

Ektacites, despite their taxonomic classifications, are able to reproduce with some other mortal species. Specifically, those belonging to the genus Homo (humans, elves, orcs, etc.). This reproduction almost always results in the production of another ektacite - to the point that many currently existing ektacites are not directly spawned from the flesh of Jur’gemith.

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The Magic of Icrade - by Lennox sine-Vassetre of Ilaton

Often, when I sit at my desk, I find myself gazing out through my window at the skyline of Ilaton. A view to be envied, most would say, and I might agree but for five spires that rise high above the rest: the Alligator, the Dragonfly, the Heron, the Toad, and the Crayfish. Five fingers on the hand that is the Gradis Academy. I would sit easier in my chair to see it collapse to rubble, for then my grudges would be settled and my view unobstructed.

I of course attended the Academy in my youth - the Ilaton noble who can do no magic is the easiest target in mockery, violence, and politics alike. To be sure, there is sense in that. The lowest, basest creature can see that fire and water obey the will of its betters and work out that perhaps it should too. But those at that vexing Academy and many more still have failed to ask themselves: do fire and water and their many other tricks obey them? Does magic come to heel when commanded? If they bothered to ask, they would find the only sane answer. Of course they are not the masters of magic. Magic answers their summons only when they appease it with ridiculous waving of hands and speaking of gibberish. They are the obedient ones, who eagerly do whatever magic demands of them. How, then, are they any better than a trained hound? A circus beast?

True command of magic must not be learned, that is the heart of it. It must be natural. Innate. Such mastery does exist - on occasion I hear whispers of it. I hear of children who can barely walk, yet shadows bend around them when they wish to hide. Sailors wash ashore after terrible storms with the wind ever at their backs. And yet such tales are frustratingly rare, and worse, inconsistent. Ten thousand hopefuls can drink dragon’s blood, and only one might emerge with the power they seek. The rest would be lucky to feel no effects at all. Fortune is rarely so kind. And even the one in ten thousand will almost certainly not see his power pass to his children - it is most likely to die with him.

And yet hope is not lost. For the days of flesh have come. Those five spires of Gradis are not all I see out my window - I see the streets below, filled with true living creatures of mortal make. Positively teeming with the magic needed to bring them into being. And surely the possibilities will not end with eight-legged carriages. The next heir to the sine-Vassetre name need not be troubled with the learning of magic. They will not rely on the luck of birth for their power, for they will not be born at all. They will be built.

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An Operator's Guide to Biomachine Connection

Hello! If you’re reading this, you will likely be connected to a biomachine in the near future. This can be intimidating, but there is no cause for alarm. Biomachines are well understood and, when operated responsibly, safe. However, they can also be dangerous when used improperly or by an untrained operator. Reading and committing to memory the information provided in this short informational document can and will save your life.

Section 1: Pre-Connection

To connect to a biomachine, you must first undergo a moderately significant surgical procedure known as a khikomechostomy. This procedure creates several tiny orifices at various locations on the body: the backs of the hands, the forearms, and upper arms, along the spine, and on the backs of the thighs. These orifices, referred to as ‘sockets’, are lined with a thin layer of chitin. You should not attempt to connect to any biomachine for at least two weeks after the khikomechostomy is successfully performed.

If you have already had the aforementioned operation performed, and you have been through the appropriate waiting period, please continue to the next section.

Section 2: Connection

Before connecting to any biomachine, it is recommended that you carry out a simple process to ensure safe and effective connection.

First, identify the connection point. With small biomachines, such as firearms and other handheld objects, look for a circular point clearly marked out in bright red. If you touch it with one finger, you may feel small and thin moving beneath it. This is the connection point. Do not interact with it yet. If the biomachine is larger in size, such as a stone burrower (‘worm-rig’, colloquially), it may have a dedicated control area, usually located towards the front. Locate a shallow, recessed alcove in one wall, which should contain a hanging harness. Allow the co-operator in attendance to help you into the harness. Do not attempt to put the harness on alone.

Second, determine how many sockets the connection will require. Small-scale biomachines usually require one or two sockets. As a general rule, any biomachine greater in mass than your body will require all sockets to properly connect. (Please note that the previous statement may not apply if you are a gnome, goblin, or halfling.)

Third, begin the connection process. If you have located the clearly marked bright red point on your small or handheld biomachine, gently but firmly apply pressure to it with one finger. A thin tendril, capped at the end with a tiny, needle-like chitin point, should emerge from beneath the surface of the machine. Be sure to examine the tendril as thoroughly as you can before it attempts connection. It should be slightly translucent and pale in color. If it appears red or inflamed, immediately set the biomachine down and distance yourself from it. Do not attempt any further connection with it. If the tendril appears normal, allow it to climb your arm - it is attempting to find a compatible socket. Do not make any sudden moves or attempt to guide the tendril with your hand. Once it has detected a socket, it will attempt to insert the needle-like point into it. If you feel a sudden chill in your arm after the insertion is attempted, do not panic - the connection has been successfully established.

For larger biomachines, once you have successfully attached the machine’s harness to your body, locate the connection and disconnection pheromone containers. These are usually made from either metal or glass with a removable lid or stopper, filled with clear liquid. Both should be clearly marked and within arm’s reach. Pick up the connection pheromone container, remove the lid or stopper, and gently waft the air above it away from your face, then replace the lid or stopper and return the container to its original position. Several tendrils should emerge from various origin points in the alcove and attempt connection. Any movement during this phase may damage the tendrils, making operation difficult or impossible. There may be some discomfort as connection is established. You may receive sensory input from organs and limbs not currently present on your body or feel urges to perform impossible actions. Ignore these to the best of your ability. If you are receiving the aforementioned sensory input without any discomfort, the connection has been established properly.

Section 3: Disconnection

For a small or handheld biomachine, to disconnect, apply gentle pressure to the skin around the socket into which the tendril(s) is inserted. The tendril(s) should retract immediately and return to the biomachine. If it does not, do not attempt to pull the tendril(s) out immediately. Instead, apply firmer pressure to the skin surrounding the socket. Only if this fails should you attempt to pull the tendril(s) out. Grip each between two fingers and pull, steadily increasing pressure until it disconnects. Note that this can damage the biomachine, so do not attempt reconnection until you are sure it is in proper working order.

For large biomachines, inform the co-operator in attendance before you attempt to disconnect. Then locate the disconnection pheromone container and repeat the process performed with the connection pheromone: remove the lid or stopper, waft the air away from your face, then replace the stopper and container. The tendrils should disconnect on their own quickly afterwards.

If you have become unable to control your own body and inform the co-operator in attendance, do not panic. If it is safe to stop all biomachine movement, do so. If it is not safe, immediately move to a safe area and stop all movement. The co-operator in attendance will disconnect you manually and help you remove the harness.

Section 4: Post-Disconnection

Disconnection from smaller biomachines usually does not present difficulties. If you notice any swelling, pain, or inflammation around the socket used to connect to the biomachine, seek help as soon as possible.

Disconnection from large biomachines is known to present complications. These are all normal and, when handled properly, are not dangerous. If you feel dizziness or disorientation after disconnecting, immediately find a safe, stable location to sit and wait until these sensations fade. Once you feel comfortable moving, get yourself to a familiar, safe location as soon as possible. You may begin to feel one or more of the following symptoms:

- Headaches

- Nausea or vomiting

- Visual, auditory, or tactile hallucinations

- Cravings for abnormal foods

- Recall of events that have not occurred

- Lowered awareness of surroundings

- Insomnia

- Loss of appetite (can occur simultaneously with food cravings, leading to inability to keep food down)

These symptoms are collectively known as ‘connection sickness,’ and while they can be difficult to deal with, they are manageable. If you experience any of these symptoms within several hours of disconnection, immediately find a safe place to sit and allow the symptoms to pass. This may take multiple hours. Do not attempt connection to any biomachine until all symptoms have completely subsided.

If you have been connected to a biomachine for 12 continuous hours or longer, do not attempt to connect to any biomachine for at least 48 hours after disconnection. If you attempt connection, it is likely that any symptoms of connection sickness you are experiencing will intensify, and you will likely also begin experiencing more severe symptoms. In addition, these symptoms may not subside after the appropriate waiting period. If symptoms persist after the waiting period has ended, do not attempt to connect to any biomachine. Seek medical attention immediately.

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Excerpt from Black Ice, by Ranze Kerada, Yttarax’s Herald of Winter

“Fear the cold.”

These are the final words of the Oath of Snow. A sobering reminder to those who forsake a part of themselves. I have heard it from the mouths of idealists and believers, those who have it in their heads that their sacrifices are noble. Much more often I have heard it from the ambitious and the power-hungry. There are many who are willing to trade a limb, a lung, an eye - even a heart, if only they may commune with Yttarax and replace what they have lost with his deepest cold. They mistake the meaning of our Oath of Snow, and in so doing mistake what they accept into themselves. Its first words are “I am the cold,” and the ambitious speak them believing they are a declaration of power. They imagine they will spend their lives repeating those words to helpless, terrified farmers without a stockpile to see them through winter. They wish to be feared, and so they will be. It does not occur to them that they have been warned to fear themselves. The cold is absence, and once all passion and all exuberance, all perverse glee taken from watching the weak cower before you has faded, the cold will remain. It will dig through you, burrow its way into meat and bone and thought, and it will make you as it is. I have long preferred to think of myself as one of the wise few who keep a few simple joys and stave off the absence, yet I have come to doubt myself. How long has it been since I felt anything at tearing out a heart or an eye, to put in its place Yttarax’s gift of black ice? The time draws ever closer that I must lay down my knife and entrust this duty to another, and these words are meant for the one who takes it up: Give the oathbound to the cold. Give your kindness to the cold if it should stay your hand, and give your cruelty if it should make a petty tyrant of you. But no matter how much you wish to be rid of it, do not give over your fear. Hold your fear close and you will never forget that you are the cold.

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Excerpt from The 17th Semicentennial: Foreword, by Dr. Iveus Armitage

I have grown accustomed to receiving questions and mail in large volumes before the publication of each edition of the Semicentennial. Most of these come from readers eager to know my predictions in advance, and I had anticipated finding a stack of papers waiting for me upon my return from my extended stay in Kreoror. I was only slightly more surprised upon entering my study to see a deluge of mail burying my desk. The events of the past half century appear to have created a greater appetite than ever before for reflection and, possibly, foreknowledge. On these fronts, I believe I can provide. How might the longer-lived, myself included, adjust to life alongside biological machines? What of those who have never known a world where the humanoid form was not malleable, who have lived entire and full lives looking out the membrane windows of centipede-trains? And this is to say nothing of the future: the next vessel of Their Radiance Mazyar, the fate of Cynhil in the wake of the War of Iron Sands and the Dromaius Revolt, and of course the progress to come in living technology. The answers to these and more, or as close to the answers as I can hope to give you, will be found inside, along with the mundane but vital advice for the everyman of the coming half century. Be assured that I have not neglected the common worm-rig operator, nor the merchant of Mizaba, the farmer upholding a sparse Uskan settlement, or the fisherman on the Teeming Ocean. With the inclusion of accounts of my travels to Kreoror and Vraequl, I feel confident in calling this the most thorough edition of the Semicentennial to date, and fully expect to receive another pile of mail for my troubles.