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coffeecatty · 9 months

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Really wanted to share my DnD character, because I love them. This is Pip'let The Thri-Kreen. They're for a Spell Jammer campaign, and they've already eaten one (1) elf alive. It's ok, he was a slave trader trying to sell the party. Some Character Info if anyone's curious:

Their full name is Tik-Tiak-Pip-La'kt, mostly a bunch of ticking and popping sounds. (Goes by They/She :>)

They're still young and are about 4'9. But weighs about 219 pounds. (Adult thri-kreen can reach 10 feet and 600 pounds lol)

I gave them fluffy moth features. Because I can.

As a thri-kreen their carapace has chameleon properties, so they can shift their colors around however they like. This extends to their fuzz. Their fuzz also sticks like glitter and cat hair, it's never gone. They use it to mark 'allies'.

They're a Wildfire druid, which... They're not thrilled about.

They lost their hand to a beast attack, which instead of scaring them led to them being fascinated with wildlife and animals and studying them, which allowed them to help their pack avoid dangerous situations.

They know how to write, albeit only in Druid Script. They have to get a scribe to transcribe the writing for others.

They like books, and used to have a fairly large collections of miniature journals.

No one will let them pilot the ship for some reason. Backstory Stuff:

Their Original Pack was different than normal thri-kreen packs. Had many leaders that performed various leading roles, like Navigation, Trading, Hunting, etc. The Navigation Leader, called "Starseer" by the humanoids the pack interacted with, was a sort of de-facto leader of the whole pack - implied to be the founder of their Super Pack and who might have a history among the stars...

The Original Pack often escorted caravans or guarded settlements in exchange for goods and whatnot. This is how Pip'Let got their "name", as well as their journals and false hand - which was a direct gift after giving the locals some transcribed pages about local monsters.

The Original Pack also didn't have any wildfire druids, most of the younger members were mentored by the Leaders, who had different specializations. Pip'Let was originally slated to become a Star Circle Druid, aka a navigation expert like Starseer. (So basically Starseer was their dad)

The Original Pack would seek out Thri-Kreen nests and take in the newly hatched young Thri-Kreens, though sometimes later on members would break away into a new, smaller pack to go their own way. No conflict or tension, they would be allowed to go if they felt it was needed.

Their Original Pack was butchered and burned. Very few remained and scattered.

They're hunting down the ship they saw that day, in retaliation and to try and reclaim a lost magical item that belonged to Starseer. Some fun Thri-Kreen quirks:

Zero concept of what friends of family are. There is Pack and there is None-Pack.

Thri-Kreen can't speak. They speak telepathically, which means they can speak to anyone.

Had a long, in character discussion about what a pet is, and Pip'Let's take away was "A thing you can eat later or is useful."

I made their style of speaking very halting and put together almost like a command line structure. They say "whhhhy" and "mmmmmmm" a lot.

Always collect free food when available. They may or may not have an elf ribcage in their backpack for emergencies.

Has giant hidden mandibles (which I should draw sometime).

What the fuck is sleep. I have literally made an entire history for the backstory of this character and I love them. They would not hesitate to crush my head very if there was a need for it. They befriended a beholder by drawing them. I love them an unspeakable amount.

#dnd #dnd character #character art #Spelljammer #Dungeons and Dragons #thri kreen #I love my fluffy murder bug #dnd character art #I hope this inspires others to get more mothy with their thri kreen #enjoy

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pomegranarchy · 10 months

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Have You Any Faith? Chapter 5: Reluctance

wordcount: 3,422 content warnings: alienation, again. coping with family loss link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47796682/chapters/122165881

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reluctant: adjective re·luc·tant

1: feeling or showing aversion, hesitation, or unwillingness 2: having or assuming a specified role unwillingly

The Wordsmith stares down at her shellwood carving. It looks like a bird, but only if someone were squinting at it from a distance and happened to have one eye.

"I don't think this is working," She admits.

Hopper takes a look at her sculpture. "Why not? You're holding the knife just fine, and you're doing better than most first-timers."

She's thankful that he mentions nothing about her concealed hands, despite it making the task harder. He may be the person in Gravel she most closely considers a friend, but not even he has an idea of what lies beneath her layers. Surely, he'd consider her larvae-like at best. Monstrous at worst. Sighing, she brushes a wood chip off of her lap.

"This doesn't resemble anything in my head. If I didn't know what it was supposed to be, I don't believe I'd recognize it."

"It's alright. That's why you asked me to help you, isn't it?" Hopper gestures to his own sculpture with the tip of the carving knife. "What are you trying to make? Maybe I can tell you how to get it closer to what's in your head."

The Wordsmith bites her lip. How much can she describe without having to explain the concept of warm-blooded creatures? Or having an internal skeleton?

"It's… a creature from where I come from. They're called birds."

"Birds." Hopper repeats. He rubs the bottom of his face, considering. "What do they look like?"

"Well, they're… shaped and behave like maskflies. There's a lot of variety to them, but they're all covered in feathers. Feathers are…" Here, the Wordsmith pauses. What makes the most sense to a bug? "A feather is made of a thin shaft, like a flexible piece of carapace. Attached to either side are hundreds of tiny soft fibers. They look a bit like fuzzy antenna, but they're firmer and used for flying."

Hopper makes a noise of acknowledgement. When he doesn't immediately reply, the Wordsmith can tell he's trying to imagine feathers. She spends the silence wishing that the chairs in his home were more comfortable.

"Do you like these birds?"

"I think they're alright. They can be very pretty. It's… it was my father, who liked them. Loved them, really." She taps the sculpture's uneven head. "We both loved to watch little things, I think. He would spend his time birdwatching, and used to tell me about the birds he'd spot. Where they went to build their nests, or if he'd seen one splash about in a puddle. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd ever considered becoming an ornithologist."

"What is a orin… tha-loh gist?"

"Ornithologist." She pronounces the word clearly, enunciating each syllable. "It's a person who is well-studied in birds. Ornithology being the word for the study itself. I think studying the little things sort of ran in our family."

"What's your little thing, then?"

"Oh, mine is…" The Wordsmith hesitates. "Bugs, actually. The ones that don't talk, like tiktik and vengeflies. Where I come from, bugs are smaller than even those, and meeting another who could understand you was… rare."

Impossible, actually. But it's not like Hopper needs to know that.

"Hm. It would be, if our King's influence couldn't reach you. Your home sounds too far away and strange for that."

The Wordsmith wonders what the hell that even means. Is every bug in this kingdom so loyal? She considers the way Tiak speaks a bit overzealous, but maybe that's just the standard way to refer to the royalty here? Almost reverent, and as if they had godlike power. She's not sure how she feels about that. Does feudalism exist here? Nevermind. It's not as if she's in a position to figure that out. Instead, she shrugs.

"You're right in that. To me, this place feels very strange."

"Hmm. How did you travel? Walking? You wouldn't have stag beetles to carry you around places, I'm guessing."

She gasps. "You have stag beetles? That's a species I was wondering whether lived here! They have such beautiful and impressive mandibles, it's a--"

"Woah, there!" Hopper waves his hands in front of him, laughing. "You're awfully eager to see a bug of your type, aren't you?"

"Ah…?" The Wordsmith blinks at him, then finds herself blushing furiously. "No! No, I didn't mean to-- oh no."

Hopper only laughs harder at that. "It's alright! It's alright, we all have wants. I can't blame you for them. But I should warn you, stags don't have very impressive mandibles at all."

"They don't?"

"No, I'm afraid you're chasing after the wrong type of bug."

"I swear that's not..." Yeah. He's not going to believe that she wasn't lusting after a big beetle. The Wordsmith sighs with disappointment, dreading when this conversation falls into Gravel's stream of gossip. "I see."

Hopper chirrups, tapping his leg against the floor. "Ah... well, for your bird, I think there's a pretty easy solution." He waves a hand, gesturing for her to hand it to him. Carefully, the Wordsmith cups it in her palms and deposits it in his grip. As he takes it, Hopper turns it over. He nods at it, then at her. "It's like your dreamcatchers. They don't have to be pretty and perfect in order to work. It's what you feel when making it, right?"

The Wordsmith stares at him, then back at her ugly little sculpture. She's not sure what he means by 'work,' since they're only grass and string. It makes the village folk feel better, though. Enough that Tiak does his best not to outright beg her for extras to give to traders.

She nods. "Right."

"Then think about how much your father loved birds. I'm sure he would love that you made him something to make him happy, and tried so hard." Hopper holds up the sculpture to the lumafly lantern in the ceiling, illuminating it better. The Wordsmith watches him. With a different perspective, it does look nicer. Maybe it isn't a very good sculpture, but… it's not like the point is quality. The point is to remember, and to love. Beneath her mask, she smiles wistfully. She imagines giving it to her father, explaining it's supposed to be a heron. Then they both laugh over how wonky it looks, and he sets it on his windowsill so it can look outside.

"He would." She holds her hands out for it. "I think I'm ready to show it to Humi. Thank you, Hopper."

"Of course!" Hopper chirrups, delighted. As he sets it in her hands, he stands. Together, they step outside. The walk to Humi's-- home? Shrine?-- is shorter from Hopper's house than her own. There isn't yet a name for what Humi's old home has been turned into. In a way, the Wordsmith believes the bugs of Gravel are waiting for her to provide one. She searches her mind, and decides she'll tell Hopper once they get there.

The place hasn't changed much. If anything, it's only become more cluttered. Some objects have spread to the worktable, work-in-progress bracelets, carvings, and drawings. Finished pieces are pinned to the walls and stacked precariously on the main table.

The Wordsmith's hands cradle her sculpture.

"Place it anywhere there's room," Hopper mumbles idly. "Maybe we should get shelves in here…"

"I was thinking," The Wordsmith starts, "about what we should call this place. It's not quite Humi's home anymore, is it? Not her's alone, anyway. It's a bit of everyone's; the people that are remembered here, and the people that remember them."

Hopper looks up at her curiously. "It wouldn't be right of me to say I wasn't waiting for you to decide on that. What have you got, Wordsmith?"

She smiles a little at the title. It's yet to feel like herself, but she's come to accept it as truth. "Gravel's memorial. A memorial is a place that's dedicated to remembering a person or an event. This memorial-- Humi's memorial-- would be dedicated to the people important to Gravel."

"Ah. Yes, that sounds right. Where do you get all of these words? It's as if you have an endless store of them."

The Wordsmith shrugs. "Some of them were taught to me. Others I taught myself."

It's a true enough explanation, while avoiding the details that would invite further questioning. She leans over the table, and places her sculpture down. For a moment, she simply stares at the heron. She brushes her hand across its beak. Hopper remains quiet, giving her the time to reminisce. Eventually, she stands straight. Just as she opens her mouth to speak again--

"Wordsmith! Woooordsmith!!" Tiak bolts inside, startling the two so badly that Hopper falls over. The Wordsmith yelps, holding an arm out to Hopper before flinching back. Tiak continues to jump and flail about, arms and antenna waving erratically.

"Tiak!" Hopper barks, rolling about on the floor. "What's gotten into you?"

"There's a bug asking for the Wordsmith!"

"And? Help me up, boy! My legs aren't so spry anymore!" Hopper holds his hand up agitatedly. Tiak squeaks apologetically, crouching in order to tug Hopper to his feet.

"I'm sorry! It's just, oh! Wordsmith, it's like one of your stories!"

"What?" She says. "Tiak, you ought to calm down. Let's step outside." What’s gotten into him? Sure, Tiak can be a bit excitable, but nothing so extreme as to knock people over. It begs the question of what kind of story he thinks is going on. She sends her memory through the ones she’s told, as if it’ll help any.

"But-- okay! But quickly, quickly!" He dashes outside just as fast as he came in.

"That boy…" Hopper grumbles, brushing off his wings. The Wordsmith sighs sympathetically, following close behind. Even if she knows he’ll be fine, the fall worries her. Just outside, Tiak paces about in a tight circle. As soon as he sees them, he jumps up.

"Wordsmith!! Do you know how important this is??"

She fights to keep the annoyance out of her tone. "No. You have yet to explain what this is about."

He shrieks. "It's a high class looking bug! He came in on the trader's road, but he's got fine clothes and a shined up carapace! He said that he's from the palace, and he kept asking if this is where the Wordsmith stays, and if someone could go get you because the King is asking to see you!"

The Wordsmith laughs. "A king, wanting to see me?"

This is like a story! Imagine royalty wanting anything to do with some random stranger. Covered in rags and old dirt, no less.

"That's what he said!! And he said it was very important, too!"

She starts to giggle, only to realize that Tiak is being serious. This isn't something he would dare joke about. Coming to her senses, she presses a hand against the bottom of her mask. What would a king possibly want from her? To demand citizenship, maybe? But why take notice of her specifically?

"Did… did the bug say why?" She asks.

"It's about your dreamcatchers! The Wordsmith who makes the dreamcatchers! He said that the King wants to see you, and heard that you lived here in Gravel!" Almost desperately, Tiak waves his hands about. "Please, you need to see him!"

"I… alright, Tiak. No need to repeat yourself. Take me to see him."

"Yes, Wordsmith!" Tiak scurries off without so much as a warning. The Wordsmith watches him for a second. Even if she started running now, she wouldn’t catch up. Given that the result will be the same, she glances at Hopper.

"Don't wait for me. Maybe in my younger days I could keep up, but now my joints are too brittle for big leaps. I'll catch up." He waves her off. Accepting this, the Wordsmith starts after Tiak.

It takes a bit longer than she expects. Mostly because Tiak rushes out of sight too often, then has to come careening back for her once he realizes that she's behind. He has to duck back and wave her forward out of a deadend, or to explain she went down the wrong road. She didn’t think Gravel had so many paths. Through it all, she can’t tell if he's annoyed with her or merely frantic.

Eventually, they reach the edge of the village. Standing in the road is a bug dressed in a white cloak of some kind, long antenna stretching from his head. Around him are a few curious bugs, trying to prod him with questions.

"Come, come! Here! Here, look!" Tiak skids to a stop, waving back and forth between the white-dressed bug and the Wordsmith. "This is them! This is he! Wordsmith, meet…?"

"Tymm." She initially resists the urge to raise her eyebrows, then realizes no one can see it behind her mask.

"A pleasure to meet you, Tim. What brings you here?"

"I come from the White Palace." His wings buzz a little, ruffling the cloak laid over them. "The Pale King wishes to see you, to talk about your dreamcatchers."

"They aren't mine," she clarifies. "They're only something that I've helped bring here."

Tymm doesn't seem to acknowledge this, simply waving a hand in the air. "Come with me."

"Right now?"

"Yes. The sooner the better."

"I see. Allow me to say my goodbyes, first." Of the bugs assembled, she sees Thea gasp and press her hands against her face.

"You'll be returning." Despite his impersonal tone, the Wordsmith is offended. Why the rush? Can’t a king bear to wait a few minutes longer?

"Even so, I don't wish to abandon the bugs that have welcomed me into their homes." The Wordsmith bows her head a little, then turns to Tiak. He stares imploringly up at her.

"Don't delay, Wordsmith! Don't you see? This is like one of your stories! You're off to see the Pale King himself, and he'll have you marry him or the Queen, and you'll be a monarch yourself!"

The Wordsmith blinks. "I don't… think I should come between their marriage."

"I don't think that's a problem," Tiak says, oddly reminiscent. "He did make that arrangement with the Queen of Beasts! And you said yourself how important the spiders are! Someone as talented as you will fit right in!"

"Is that so…?" The Wordsmith cautions, uncertain of what to make of that response. Is the king polygamous? Does the queen not mind, or is she as well? Who is the 'queen of beasts'? A spider, presumably, but what arrange--?

"The Pale King wants to see the Wordsmith about the dreamcatchers alone." Tymm interjects, a hint of agitation in his tone.

"Or he could marry you to somebody else!" Thea cries. "Imagine that, the King himself making your marriage official! What an honor to have the Wordsmith as a spouse. A union blessed by the Pale King!"

"What's this about marriages?" Hopper says coyly, arriving just in time for embarrassing assumptions. "Wordsmith, I never expected you to be so open in your interests. Now is hardly the time!"

"No one is marrying anybody," Tymm says, now clearly annoyed.

"That's right," The Wordsmith hurriedly agrees. "This is to be an unromantic visit."

Thea sighs disappointedly, but she doesn't know why. Previously unnoticed, Lu peeks out from behind Hopper. Something is clutched against her thorax, hidden by her arms.

“Then let us go,” Tymm says.

"Wait!" Lu cries. She fidgets, ducking behind Hopper. He pats her back reassuringly, and she peeks out again. "Before you go?"

Her tone is so hesitant, so sweet, that it reminds the Wordsmith painfully of her youngest cousin. Only a baby, when she had first seen her.

"Of course,” She says, with as much compassion as she can muster. “What is it?"

Lu hesitates, remaining behind Hopper. But eventually, she steps out. In her hands is a small, round object. Slowly, she stretches her arms out to present it. The Wordsmith crouches down, looking at it carefully. It looks like a shellwood pin. There's a design etched into it, resembling the faces of various bugs. She thinks one is meant to be Hopper. The little one in the front is clearly Lu. The Wordsmith smiles, charmed by the wobbly, inexperienced lines.

"It's very cute. Do you mind telling me what it is?"

"It's a gift! So that you can stay safe, like you made me feel safe. I know it's not finished, but… I want you to have it, before you go." Lu stares down at the ground, unable to look directly up at the Wordsmith. Her heart aches.

"Oh, that's so kind. But I… Why don't you finish it for me, for when I come back? That way when you give it to me for the first time, it'll be done."

"But…" Lu glances at the object. "I don't… I don't want you to forget us."

Ah. The Wordsmith answers with as much reassurance as she can.

"I won't. I promise. You've all been very kind to me, and I would never forget the bugs who've helped me.” She places a hand over her chest, trying to summon as much sincerity as she can. The eyes of the other bugs rest on her, bid into silence by the exchange in front of them.

“Besides, I won't be leaving forever."

"Still… you can…" Lu looks up with shining eyes. "You can keep some of me with you. So you won't forget me."

Before the Wordsmith can answer, Hopper steps up.

"Come now, Wordsmith. You're a gift to Gravel. You deserve a gift in return." Hopper holds out for the object. Lu gives it to him, albeit reluctantly. He pats her on the head, then starts to run a finger over the carved lines. "This has care in it. It's meant to make you happy and keep you safe. And Wordsmith, I think you've more than deserved that much from us. You've cared for us, after all."

"That's right!" Thea cries. She sidles up next to him, holding her hands out. Hopper gives her a look, but passes it to her without a fuss. Once it’s in her hands, she presses her face against it. A kiss? The Wordsmith wonders. She hadn’t realized these bugs did that as well.

"There. For you to think about when you get lonely! You'll know we're all here to support you."

Tiak bounces up and down, waving his arms as if they’ll lift him off the ground. Only once it’s been passed to him next does he settle down.

"Yes!” He cries, hugging it against his thorax. “We'll never forget your stories, and you'll never forget our faces!"

Hopper extends an arm for it, and Tiak gently passes it back. The item is returned to Lu. She clutches it tightly, staring one at a time at the bugs who touched her gift. Then she nuzzles it over her forehead. After a final, long, thoughtful stare, she speaks again.

"Yeah! All of what they said. You can keep us with you, and you won't get lonely or anything."

“Then I would be a fool not to accept it. Would you do me the honors?” The Wordsmith smiles, though she knows nobody can see it. Gently, she holds her hands out. Lu’s antenna perk up, and she beams at her, dropping the item in her hands. There is silence as the Wordsmith turns the item over in her hands, examining it. "Thank you. This is so very sweet, and I… I'm flattered that I've come to mean this much to you all. I've done my best to earn my keep here, and to help where I can. I never expected anything more than basic needs in return. Thank you, all of you."

She looks down at Lu.

"I'll make sure to keep it with me, okay? It'll be my good luck charm. Then when I come back, you can finish it and it'll work better than ever." She grips it tightly, feeling her affection twinge at her cheeks. When was the last time she smiled so hard it hurt? For just a moment, she thinks the charm shimmers with life. Better not to lose the dear thing. Assuming it to be a trick of the light, the Wordsmith merely affixes it to one of the hanging pieces of fabric covering her. Lu bounces in place, nodding eagerly.

As she stands, Tymm gestures for her. "We should get going. There's a Stag Station we can take."

"Of course." With one final goodbye, the Wordsmith departs. “Thank you all, again.”

#hyaf #have you any faith?#hollow knight fanfic #hollow knight ocs #hollow knight #ao3 #posted on AO3

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