So I’m redesigning some of my aliens for my fantasy/sci-fi world. Original post talking about them is here.
These would be my previously named niveans and logar.
\The niveans are a race of mermaid like folk from the planet Avalon (new name yet to come), whose whole shtick is to be able to morph their shape to adapt to almost any situation, that even includes to be able to attract and create offspring with (almost) any life form. The most common way for them to mate is to absorb their partner, adapt their genetic code to be usable to create offspring, and use the biomass to either speed along the birthing process, or to create a greater number of offspring. Like bigger, creepier angler fish.
The logar are one of the strongest, toughest, and dumbest race on Avalon. They live for the thrill, and hold strong familial bonds, which can include creature they don’t eat first. Despite their ineptitude in most other areas, logar can be master tacticians, often outsmarting enemies in a fight that underestimated their intelligence (at least in this area).
And here’s a couple sketches of the new designs. Getting fishier with them.
I’m now calling the niveans bellesona, and the logar blindestro.
For the longest time, the galactic council assumed that the planet Haan was just a giant dust ball that happened to have an atmosphere, devoid of any significant amount of water, signs of life whatsoever, and even any sort of useful minerals, as all orbital scans had returned with either bountiful elements found and mined more cheaply elsewhere, or just pure bedrock that would serve little purpose to the universe at large.
So it was that explorers, settlers, and wayward tourists left it well alone, quietly making its cycles around its trio of suns without much of anything happening...
... Or so they thought, for deep underground, beneath the global layer of signal absorbing and reflecting metals, the Ogg toiled, mining, growing, and sculpting the expansive and rich minerals of their planet into tools, buildings, and works of art, advancing and growing, until a nearby space station was hit by an artificially created meteor:
Their first, clumsy attempt at space travel, a missile made entirely out of rock, and containing a large army of long-dead Ogg who did not know of the perils and nuances of space travel just yet, and learned them all too late.
The Ogg are an insectoid race, with powerful mandibles, no eyes but highly sensitive antennae, and eight limbs that end in incredibly agile pincers that can easily perform tasks that usually require highly precise optics and robotics for the finesse required, or with a large number of them, jobs that usually require heavy construction equipment.
They are, without a doubt, one of the best mechanics, engineers, and architects in the galaxy, capable of working at incredible speeds, with great precision, and little downtime; in fact, the Ogg experience great physical and psychological pains if unable or kept from constantly using their pincers to tinker, build, or even just play, anything to have “clacks clacking.”
Xenobiologists theorize that they could have easily become the dominant race of the galaxy, colonizing all of known space, and rapidly expanding out to the uncharted stars thanks to their engineering prowess and the speed with which they solve problems and upgrade, their incredible creativity especially in the face of scarce resources, their little needs for sustenance, and rapid reproduction and aging, if only they did not have their one fatal weakness:
An inability to think farther than an average of 5 or so minutes into the immediate future.
Thanks the constant seismic and volcanic activity within the planet Haan, and the dangers it posed to its one living species, the Ogg evolved with incredibly present-minded brains, never thinking plans through very far simply because they would be easily, quickly rendered invalid past step three or so; their expansive colonies, buildings, and incredible technology are not so much grand ideas of one or a few Ogg brought to life, so much as one or a few Ogg starting the job on impulse based on some pressing need, and the rest of their lending “clacks” to upgrade, modify, and expand the creation as they saw fit and as the ever changing situations demanded.
For an Ogg, there is no “Grand Plan,” there’s only the next step in an instruction manual constantly being written and edited, which necessitates constant supervision by other species who understand the concepts of “long-term planning” and more often than not, “long-term consequences.”
The most famous example illustration for their thinking process is the history of their naming conventions:
When the first xenobiology crews landed on the planet and attempted to ask them about what they had named themselves, one Ogg suggested the name and the rest had unanimously agreed, as all they needed for a moment was a unique word to define themselves in contrast to these new, strange creatures.
When asked about the names of each individual, each Ogg simply made a sound that another Ogg had not taken, a trend that continues today with ships having Ogg engineering crews named “Deg,” “Dog,” “Dug,” “Ugg,” and “Bob.”
It had simply never occurred to them to make a name that would sound aesthetically better to them or the galaxy at large, and as their continued refusal to think of a replacement to either their species’ name or that of their planet, they really could care less.
Decided to draw the cross-breed of a nivian and a logar. Such children would still be considered nivians, since it is a big part of their culture to breed with other creatures, this also would explain the mostly nivian figure.
Thought I’d draw a avalonian having some drunken fun with they’re terran crewmate. Figured orcs and logar would get along swimmingly since they’re both stubborn, brutal, aggressive creatures with thick skulls that often seel out as mercs.
Also, here is what orcs look like on this Terra. Still got the tusks, but decided to give em some nubbly horns for head-butting.
So another idea about these druidic plant aliens is that they’d be able to adapt overtime to their environment, with help from their magics and natural shape changing abilities. The “swampy was just a doodle to get the ideas going. Same with the “subterranean”
I should say real quick that the Arborn “muscles” are made up of hundreds of tightly coiled vines that connect the different hardened, wood like segments. These coiled vines allow for flexibility, and when required can stretch out to great lengths. Arborn “hair” is leaves or leaf like structures that are used to collect solar light for photosynthesis.
With Rocky I was thinking they’d need to be sturdy, so their bodies are mainly hard wooden segments on the outside, with thick bundles of their coiled vines inside. The outer segments being covered by horns or spines for protection. Their leaves are smaller, and more like bushes.
Jungles Arborn would need to be more flexible for climbing, so their bodies are mostly thick bundles of coiled vines, with few hard wood segments needed for gripping or structure. Leafy vines grow along their backs.
For aquatic I was thinking for them they’d be the main head, and kelp-y vines flowing behind for propulsion and solar energy collection. Sort of like tadpole meets jellyfish.
Avian Arborn would use massive leaves attached to a small body by heavily coiled vines to support themselves in flight.
