Love Kennis & Kennis reconstructions of ancient humans. Love the life they give them.
australopithecus afarensis "Lucy", australopithecus sediba, homo erectus pithecantropus, homo ergaster "Turkana boy", homo floresiensis, homo neanderthalensis x2, early homo sapiens from Jebel Irhoud, "Ötzi the Iceman" and neolithic woman Lisar.
After years of rendering and months of setting up the showcase, I now present the finished video on my Hominin reconstructions lined up in Blender.
Glad to finally have this one uploaded. In this video I present nine Hominin busts which I built up around fossil cranium scans from MorphoSource (or from Artec 3D), showing the edited bony material first, then muscles, cartilage, tendons, and eyeballs, and finally skins for each of the models in turn. A little apologetic for the audio quality here, between recovering from a headcold and not having dedicated recording equipment, but hopefully 12 minutes of that is survivable. Also my first time adding little musical stings I recorded myself. Enjoy!
i gave my old undertale OC to Char so she can use it to selfship with toriel because i am playing 4D OC chess.
she's an ancient human with a perserverance soul that fossilized down in mount ebbott long ago that was reawakened by a human's determination much like chara. Their soul is hanging on by a thread, though
the tearshaped purple markings aren't there for edgy points on purpose, it just happens to be that KNM-ER 3733, the homo ergaster fossil that Char is very loosely based off of, is actually missing those areas and i thought it'd be interesting to fill those in with... purple perserverance.
the fact it has these teardrop holes in this is also why char enjoys gaster so much. she legit just went "HE'S ME. IT'S ME. IT'S LITERALLY ME" the fact she's also a member of homo ergaster doesn't help.
she can be corny about anthropology too but she has to do it on her own accord. if you make the anthropology joke first then she'll throw bricks at your head
His a vampire grandson to the mother of vampires, Tatma! half Homo Sapien, half Homo ergaster, full vampire.
He's AroAce (but a horny drunk lol) this is him in the year 510 CE. I feel like he stitched the gold into his tunic himself. If he had a D&D class, he would be a wizard, and he would be one of those "crazy" Wizards. Like; you can tell that his just so smart he's bored.
Musa I of Mali was friends with his father; Trident of the sand dunes.
This is the mother of vampires holding her mother's skull💕💖
Notes: This is a concept that I've been wanting to write about for a few months now. I've been on a binge of researching early humans and other hominids and having a hard time finding any fiction which includes them earnestly, I caved and decided to write my own. There is likely to be some scientific inaccuracies regarding behavior and time spans in which certain species existed and I do have some plans to dip into more fantastical elements involving magic and concepts not fully grounded in reality. I hope you have as much fun reading as I do writing!
Foraging, for Pura, was a moment of reflection and silence. It was peace and calm and freedom away from the cacophony of his family. While most split into groups for the day, Pura always found the time to steal away with an unused bowl and disappear into the foliage for hours.
It was not that he disliked her family, they were the joy of his heart. There was no amount of food or sharpened stones in the world which he would trade his parents or siblings for. And every night when he returned with his haul, he could hardly wait to sit beside the fire and listen intently to every one of Ranjo and Flavo’s competing stories of how the megantereon they escaped from had fangs “this big!”
During the day however, it was different. Perhaps it was the heat which made him more irritable, or the raucous calling when someone found something they could all stab. Whatever it was, until Pura found some privacy, his skin itched and his head pounded ceaselessly.
As the groups began to split and Flavo was choosing her hunting partners, Pura realized with some uncertain frustration, today was no different. Sitting up from bed, he found his bowl and peeked from his hut. Most of the band was already moving off and with no one looking towards him, it was the perfect opportunity to sneak off. Perfect, until a hand wrapped itself around his arm, stopping Pura in his tracks.
“Where are you going?”
It was Ruga, Pura’s mother, who looked him up and down with stern expectation. Found out, Pura pouted.
“I’m foraging.” He said, and it was the truth, but clearly not the answer Ruga was demanding. And still, she shrugged and said,
“Great. I’ll come along with you.”
It was a stupid game, one which Pura did not want to play. “You don’t need to do that. I can catch up with the group.” He lied.
Ruga waved them off, “They’ve got plenty. Besides, when has it just been the two of us recently?” Suddenly she cupped Pura’s face, as though to examine what was there. “Who’s been doing your hair?”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
Ruga made a face, then shrugged, “Nothing. I’ll fix it later, let’s go.” And started off from the camp. Self-consciously, Pura patted at his head and looked after her. A deep unease was beginning to settle in his gut. Like dreading having to walk under a tree in which you can clearly see a leopard hanging in, Pura dragged his feet forward.
Ruga, like most mothers Pura knew, was not a woman to be denied. Where she didn’t bear scars from childbirth, she wore a coat of them from forehead to her legs from hunts innumerable. Such was their number that at times, it seemed even she forgot what caused them. Sometimes the scar on her hip which reduced her walk to a hobble was from a lion and other times it was from a deinotherium. One scar Pura was certain of was a single pale line just above her collarbone, where a flint-knife almost shore through her neck. Pura was young, his mother’s attacker a blur in a memory of blurs, but he never forgot the blood which covered Ruga’s chest or the expression on her face as the man slumped to the ground and never got up.
When her mother said “Let’s go.” Pura went, no matter how much he didn’t want to.
In the defense of Ruga, she made a better foraging partner than others. Like Pura, she preferred to keep things quiet. At times she only spoke when she needed Pura to reach something she no longer could, which was becoming a regular occurrence. Perhaps that was why he found Ruga almost as unsettling as a big cat. Perhaps one day his skin would have as many scars and he too would no longer be able to reach fruit in the low tree. Others had always said they looked similar. The thought awoke something dreadful in Pura and made him want to die.
Around midday, Ruga offered they take a break and rest in a shady clearing. They sat side by side and Ruga, true to her word, began attacking Pura’s hair with vigor.
“Whoever has been looking after this has made a real mess of things.” She said.
Pura sighed, “No one’s been looking after it.”
“Oh, I know.”
Pura huffed again and tried to keep quiet while Ruga worked. Her mother of course seemed only interested in silence while foraging.
“I know some girls a few rivers down who would love to look after this rat’s nest you’ve made.”
“Please, don’t start.”
“I think it’s something worth considering, Pura. You’re too lonely these days.”
“I certainly don’t feel alone.” Pura muttered.
“That’s not what I said.” Ruga tisked. “I could put in a good world with Flavo, you know.”
“Mother, please. . .”
“If girls don’t interest you, I know Erdad has been preening lately.”
“Mother!”
“I’m just putting it out there. They’re both strong and virile and you would–”
“Ruga!” Pura swatted her hand away and stood. His body felt unbearably hot, even in the shade. He wanted to run away, to get lost, but it wouldn’t be right to abandon his mother. His indecision manifested in frantic, uneven pacing until he settled a few steps from Ruga and squatted with his back towards her. He hoped the tantrum would have been the end of it. A silly wish. It took Ruga all of ten seconds to slowly creep up behind him and start anew on his hair. She fretted on a knot, but said nothing more.
The silence should have been welcome, but it bothered Pura in the same way any stray attention made his skin itch. It felt like a perversion of his comfort. The swaying of leaves, the warbling birds, the whole world felt off. He almost wanted to blame Ruga for it, but instinctually, intrinsically, Pura knew it was something wrong with him. There was something about him which was different from the rest of him family–from the rest of the band. The game which everyone played and stayed together with, it just wasn’t something he could do. His hands couldn’t get the grasp on the handaxe.
The silence stretched between them even as they returned to work, though this time Ruga did not ask for help once.
They returned to camp by the evening, both of their bowls full. The rest of the band was returning by that time as well and while Ruga passed out the food they had gathered, Pura returned to his hut alone, hoping to find relief. For a time, there was some relaxation to be uncovered. The humdrum of hunters returning and mingling faded away with the faraway cries of toddlers still learning to toddle. Pura closed his eyes, determined to chalk the day up as an anomaly in the larger life that was Pura of the Bamboo Band. But peace, lately, never came easy.
As the light dimmed and Pura’s hut became its own shrouded canopy, the trailing sounds of laughter followed by the smell of smoke and meat filled his space with a strange sort of agony. It did not come in searing pain or starvation pangs, but the noise filled Pura with an odd, restless hunger. He figured first, it was real hunger driving him to listen closely at the entrance of his hut, but though he had not eaten the whole day, food was not particularly on his mind.
He couldn’t make out any details of the conversation, but he recognized Flavo and Ranjo’s voice steady in their like extravagant retelling of today’s events. Pura thought of joining the band at the fire, but the image of everyone’s face turning to him as he tried to find a place to sit almost made him want to be disemboweled. So instead, he lay back down and pretended he couldn’t hear the noise.
It almost worked.
At what must have been the climax of the story, the whole band rocked with applause and howls of appreciation. Pura couldn’t take it. After trying in vain to stuff the noise with his hands over his ears, he at last stood and decided to take a walk. He had learned since this morning leaving his tent was one of the most dangerous things he could do, but with everyone distracted, there would be no one to notice him leaving for an hour or two.
Stepping out, he immediately collided with Flavo.
“Whoa hey!” Flavo laughed, fixing both of their stances before either could accidentally fall, “I was just about to find where you were.”
Pura could not believe his luck. He tried to make a quick scan of his memories to see if she had accidentally looked a paranthropus in the eyes the past season, but all he was graced with was Flavo’s all encompassing stare. Which to be honest, wasn’t wholly different.
Flavo had the build of a hippopotamus and the enthusiasm of a very friendly hyena. Naturally, if you were, say, an antelope, she was a true force to be reckoned with. Were you a fellow band member, she was the perfect club in which to pummel a wildebeest to death and later have children with. Were you Pura, you felt more like the Bovidae at the other end of the bone.
“I was just laying down.” Pura lied, “It was hot today.”
“Oh, tell me about it.” Flavo slumped, “We spent the whole day chasing after an ass and– Oh hey that reminds me I saved you some.” She thrusted a handful of two semi-intact ribs forward, only the shreds of fat left hanging on. “Most of it was eaten, but the marrow’s still good!”
Pura took the ribs slowly, trying his best to avoid eye contact for as long as possible. “Thanks, that’s kind of you.”
Flavo waved a cloud of invisible mosquitoes away. “No worries even. Say, your hair’s a little uneven, wanna groom?”
“I– it’s– My hair’s fine.”
Flavo’s jovial smile suddenly dropped and she leaned in uncomfortably close. “Are you feeling alright? You look ill.”
Pura found himself gripping the ribs tightly and winding his eyes shut. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just– I just need to find some water. That's all.”
At this Flavo lit back up excitedly. “Oh that’s perfect. We could go together, I know a spot not far from here that we could–”
“Alone. I want to walk alone, Flavo.”
And the smile vanished just as quickly. Some part of Pura stung at causing its disappearance.
“Oh. Oh that’s fine too I suppose.” She said, “You’ll be back quickly? It’s already dark. I can– Oh I’ll get you a torch!” And she loped off towards the campfire.
Dark as it was, Pura found himself sighing and letting the ribs fall to the ground. He was not about to wait for another hostile encounter and quickly jogged towards the treeline, slipping in with no hesitation.
Away from the light and noise, Pura could already feel himself returning to normality. He still felt slightly sorry for lying so blatantly to Flavo, but it was for the best. Finding a nice tree, he climbed up to a sturdy lower branch and stewed silently.
Flavo was friendly, Pura enjoyed Flavo.
From a distance.
That was how he preferred it and, until tonight, Pura was under the impression Flavo preferred that too. She was originally from a band down river and her lack of familial ties to Pura had been reflected in their daily life for the past three summers. Beyond the occasional greeting and the one time Pura allowed her at his hair, their interactions were miniscule.
It didn’t take too much brain power for Pura to understand what changed; Ruga’s attempted conversation was still fresh in his mind. There was little doubt his mother set Flavo up. Being one of the band’s oldest, her wisdom was taken as commandment and swaying someone like Flavo to try and cozy up to her son was as simple as giving a pithecine a hole and permission to ‘go at it.’
The thought of what could have happened if Ruga got her wish, if Pura let himself be charmed by and roosted with Flavo for the night, it made him feel tragically ill. He banished the thought immediately and tried to think of other things. Of which it was impossible to do.
He knew his mother well enough that she would not stop in this endeavor. She walked entire herds of buffalo to death and Pura had the unfortunate endurance of being her only son. Flavo was easily distracted enough, but tomorrow? It could be anyone. Erdad? Runa? Ancestors forbid, would she try to have him mount Lanka? None of them sounded remotely appealing and the former two were even slightly related to Pura.
One option remained then, for both Ruga and Pura. His mother would try to contact a nearby band and recruit some firestruck, barely-past-adolescence-marrow-gatherer and force them to bond in front of both bands. Pura could see it so clearly it made his chest tighten shut, howling, dancing, roasted elephant, every single eye fixated on him as his new mate groomed his hair.
It was terrifying. And wholly unacceptable.
But, Pura thought, if he left first–if he joined a new band, there would be no pressure to form a mating bond. In fact, as long as he foraged and brought back enough food, there would be no pressure to form any unnecessary connection whatsoever. It was something Pura had thought about many times, but only now did it seem such a necessary leap.
He hopped down from the tree.
Leaving now would be his best shot. The band would be closing their eyes soon and even in the dark Pura knew where the river was. Following it down would be simple and he could find another band sure enough. Yes, he would miss the late night fire stories, but he wouldn’t let them be his prison.
Pura looked through the treeline and towards the waving yellow halo that illuminated the camp. He saw the conical silhouettes of his family’s huts, cast against the flame. They would stay in this cleaning for a few more days, maybe a tad longer if they searched for him, but by the next full moon both he and they would be gone from this valley.
Maybe, some dozens of seasons from now, he would see them again.
He stared for for a long time, until the glow faded and signified that no one but the lookouts and adolescents were still awake.
He found the words whispering on his lips before he truly realized what he was saying.
“Farewell.”
He turned, at last, to leave the old world behind and–
Pura froze.
He wasn’t alone.
Crouched between the foliage was a pair of circular white eyes staring directly at him. For a brief moment, he thought it was one of the band’s children, Darin or Griza, having snuck out. But their face was wrong, the shape of their body was wrong. Where naked skin should’ve dimly shone in pale moonlight, Pura could only make out the ghostly tips of fur. It’s face, almost so familiar, flared, surprised and with the visage of something almost erectan. Like something closer to a bonobo.
Pura gasped. The realization of what crouched before him almost choked out of him.
“Habilis!”
At the sound of his voice, the creature jolted, then quickly turned and fled into the forest, leaving a rustling trail of shrubs and leaves in its wake.
It took embarrassingly long for Pura to recover from the pure freezing terror that gripped his body. If it had been a dinofelis or leopard staring him down, he would have been dead. In any other situation, he would have run immediately. But something about those half-people was utterly petrifying. By the time Pura’s breath returned to him, along with the wisdom to finally pick up his feet, the opportune moment to make his night escape had vanished.
At the sound of foliage being forced aside behind him, Pura leaped back and nearly screamed. Flavo, face illuminated in orange light by a burning stick, shouted with him.
“There you are!” She exclaimed, “Why didn’t you wait for me? It’s dark as a cave out here.”
Pura just looked at her, his mouth open and closed, but no sound came out. At first Flavo just cocked her head, puzzled, but was quickly overcome with equal parts concern and fear.
She leaned in close, stepping between Pura and the forest. “What did you see?”
Through his sharp breaths, Pura finally got it out. “Ha- habilis.”
“Oh.” Flavo said, suddenly more confused, “You sure?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Oh wow.” And she puzzled her head, “Really?”
Her incredulity was enough for Pura to snap out of his abject terror. “I think I would recognize a monkey man if it was three paces from me.”
“Monkey? Did it have a tail?”
Flavo looked over her shoulder and gave a sadistic smile, one which Pura didn’t quite understand but felt it must have been carrying something at his expense.
“No it didn’t have a tail, it— That’s not important! It was a habilis, I’m certain of it.
“Okay, okay, relax. I was just teasing. Let’s go tell Ruga.”
Pura felt a chill.
“Ruga? Why?”
Flavo shrugged, “If a band of them has moved nearby, they might cause some issues. My family’s band for instance, we lived by some habilis for a time. Had a friendly competition over carrion with them. We stole their meat, they stole our spears, we stole their fruit, they stole my younger brother. That kind of stuff.”
“They… what?”
“Yeah, it was fucked.” Flavo looked towards the forest, contemplating something, but not betraying any emotion. “Anyways, we should tell the band before any kids go missing.” She started towards the tree line before stopping, “Oh wait! Did you get any water?”
