#chitten

[lycanthrop-ee-art]

fellow spec bio enthusiasts may I recommend. drawing your creatures like a five year old would

[jellybeanfeind]

Magic in Astrozoda behaves less like an innate force of nature and more like a coding language that hasn’t been updated since it was originally written. This means that spellcrafting is an extremely powerful but extremely dangerous line of study; amazing discoveries have been made entirely on accident, but so have a lot of…less fortunate occurrences. But for every For loop that ends in catastrophic disaster, there are a dozen misspelt attributes or misread commands that lead to Astrozoda’s cultures, landscapes, and wildlife being peppered with the screw-ups of spellcrafters past. And chickens, being plentiful, are often tragic test subjects.

The cockatrice is among the most populous and ancient of these screw-ups. Whoever first made one did so well over five hundred years ago, so their exact intentions are unknown, but very few modern scholars entertain the idea that the cockatrice was what they were actually trying to make. Cockatrices can occur if a snake nests eggs in magically-enhanced henhouses, but with improvements to homesteading magic, this has become rare. Nonetheless, breeding populations of cockatrices are well-established in warm-temperate regions where poultry farms and wild snakes co-occur. In some of these regions, they have out-competed other mid-sized carnivores to the point that some areas have experienced local extinctions of foxes or bobcats.

The chunk and the long chicken are more modern in origin. Both are the work of (in)famous spellcrafter Atticus Owle, whose various discoveries (and screw-ups) over his career ended in his sudden disappearance about thirty years ago. Both of these animals were crafted with the original intention of increasing the meat output of domestic poultry without selective breeding to the point of debilitating deformity; he’d hoped that the long chicken in particular would replace the popular broiler chicken breed, and that the chunk would reduce hunting stress on ducks. Unfortunately, long chickens are far too dangerous to farm, and chunks are much better at hiding than ducks, in addition to not being any bigger.

The chunk lives in rivers and shallow lakes, where it hides close to the bottom to ambush prey that ventures too close. When no fish are nearby, chunks will swim slowly in the direction of the water’s flow, allowing their markings to help disguise their movement. Chunks beach only to nest, but they will rarely do so in the territories of humanoids; they are apparently quite intelligent, and only a few safe locations are known to hide their nests. Fishers in regions with established populations of chunks will often leave fishmeal bait a few hundred paces away from their fishing spots, to keep the birds well-sated so as to leave the largest fish for the fishers.

Long chickens are quite the mystery all of their own. The spell creating them was apparently supposed to simply create “large” chickens, but clearly, something went wrong. Owle reportedly hypothesized that chickens are descended of much larger animals, but in trying to unearth the supposed ancestor, made something far more difficult to farm. Long chickens are cooperative hunters, living in disorganized packs of around thirty individuals, and they primarily use their immense speed and high numbers to simply overwhelm prey animals. Though they are only about two feet tall at the shoulder, flocks of long chickens have reportedly been sighted felling moose.

Chittens and nuggets are the result of more elementary-level spellcrafting errors, but simplicity in the mistake does not equate simplicity in the consequences. Chittens were intended to be a sort of “designer” pet, to retain kitten-like cuteness its whole life and to come in a variety of colors. While they do certainly live up to this purpose, and indeed are very popular pets, feral populations are also now established, and these feral colonies have led to the discovery of some previously-unknown effects of their origins.

To dissuade potential animal abuse, a condition was written in their creation spell which could inflict immense dread upon someone knowingly harming a chitten. This had additional conditions attached to it, such that the condition would not affect anyone acting in self-defense, or in the chitten’s best interests, or for the safety of others, but these components were written in less-stable terms, and some feral populations of chittens have become nearly impossible to remove as a result. Even local predators cannot face them; wolves living near feral chitten colonies not only avoid chittens, but they secondarily will avoid anything that looks or smells like one. This has led to some interesting changes in these areas, where cuteness has converged on an aposematic condition, and other prey animals will mimic the round head and colorful eyes of a chitten to avoid being eaten.

Nuggets, on the other hand, are harmlessly filling an ecological niche they found completely on accident. Like every other animal featured here, nuggets were created on accident by a spellcrafter’s poor proofreading, however they have no exceptional features that endow them with the ability to out-compete much of anything. They’re basically hamsters. Conveniently enough, their invention coincided with a terrible plague which had devastated a small region’s populations of mice and squirrels. Releasing nuggets into the area prevented the drop in rodent population from negatively impacting higher trophic levels, and now they are a staple worldwide, as common as mice.

More “important” information on Astrozoda to come, I was just possessed by the need to make sure these chickens were seen.

[talesofnecromancy]

Witch's cat wants to speak with spirits too...

[wraithwitch]

Oh Tumblr. Your essays. When I know what the hell character, show, political movement, or news story you’re on about? Awesome. I love reading your take. The rest of the time it’s the equivalent of when I’m annoyed with my cat at 2am. “No! - don’t get on the - why - why are you on the table? Don’t eat that, it’s plastic - give it here now! Oh gods don’t eat that it’s kimchi you lunatic... Oookay, why the fuck are you gnawing my shoe?”

[lycanthrop-ee-art]

redesigned this creature from 2021 :]

[lycanthrop-ee-art]

collection of 2023 creature designs :]

[talesofnecromancy]

FYI: Everything is fucking terrible in the world currently. So please look at tiny chittens and feel a little cheered. (This is a side blog that deals with the stuff and things surrounding necromancy etc. I’m not political here and you certainly didn’t come here for current events. People are allowed to be both invested in causes and social issues but also chill on the side - otherwise they go a bit crazy.) The first cat is Tiresias, the second is Flint. AKA, Smallest Cutest Floof, and Hugest House Panther. (Flint is roughly three times the size of Tiresias now and it’s not fat it’s AAARGH FUCK HELP ME your claws are terrifying I’m so glad you love me...)

[talesofnecromancy]

May 2020 #12

Me: H?

H: (Coughing and agitated and struggling against something) aaa… what did you do?

Me: Saved you I hope.

H: I - where…?

Me: You were taken to your uncle’s house by Sophie, she was looking after you. But you were getting worse, so… I… I’m pretty sure you’re in Bedlam now.

H: Aaa… I - why…?

Me: You were dying and I didn’t know what else to do.

H: (petulant) I’m already dead.

Me: Don’t start on that again as if we’re both ignorant of the difference between a ghost and a leechgiest or the Stormlands and Oblivion. I can’t watch you drown… You think differently?

H: Given my current state of incarceration, no.

Me: If you recover your health, I may eventually earn your forgiveness. But if you fall to Oblivion or worse it doesn’t really matter, does it? You won’t be around to hate or forgive me.

H: I’m in a cell.

Me: Bet you’d stoop as low as it took if I was dying. 

H: …

Me: Don’t worry, you don’t have to curse me, I’m pretty sure Sophie wants that honour.

H: … that’s not kind. (Small smile) But she does have a fierce eye…

Me: (seeing things from the corner of my eye) Are - are you… tied to the bed? … What the hell?

H: Aaaa I was not in the best humour when I found myself here. I did not know… I - I was not civil.

Me: Uncivil enough to be tied down?!

H: I… I was short of breathe and temper.

Me: This is stupid, give me a minute to work it out ad I can untie your wrists… … There - I think that’s it. … H?

H: …I’m here.

Me: Are you alright?

H: (Tiredly) I have no goddamn idea.

Me: Is there anything I can do for you?

H: …Got any bourbon?

Me: You’re in luck, I do. (Pour him a measure and hand it over.) … Do you hate me very much?

H: No aaa there was just anger - no less than you would feel in my place.

Me: I’m sorry. I just… really didn’t want you to drown.

H: (Quiet for a long time) I was - drowning. Oblivion was cutting in with every breath… I thought I could shoulder your malady as you had sometimes taken mine… aaa … it was too much…

(One of my cats walked over me and the board pushing the silver ring off and severing the connection.)

Me: Damnit Tiresias! No, my little one, get off, you can’t sit there… … H?

S: No.

Me: Who am I talking to?

S: Lord, you look done in.

Me: Sophie!

S: Mm. H disappeared some time before first light.

Me: Bedlam has him. We were just talking. He’s better than he was.

S: My boy was there. He said he saw a star. Or a lady - he wasn’t sure.

Me: Bedlam can be both - tell him he has good sight.

S: ... How is he?

Me: Not pleased with me. But he’s breathing easier and doesn’t look so haggard.

S: I’ll let the family know.

Me: Thank you. (I go to take the ring away from the board when it jolts as if changing gears, so I centre my thoughts and pay attention again.)

H: …darlin’?

Me: Sorry - I lost the connection. Tiresias knocked the ring from the board.

H: …. the cats aaaaa….

Me: Your chittens? (H nods) Well, cats always know the way to Bubastis, and anywhere else they need to go. If I ask Bedlam to let them know where you are I’m sure they’ll find their way?

H: …please darlin’.

Me: You think Gin and her brood won’t find you? Of course she will! … I can’t stay awake - I’m sorry. Love you though.

H: Aaaaaa love you girl.