This is a collection of tweets, one for each creature in the Numenera corebook.
Click. Click Click. Weichalaf felt a soft clicking from the room above, progressively getting stronger. Click click. Click. The presence descended from the ceiling, clad in white, its huge claws scratching and tapping on the walls. CLICK.
We thought the Katarian herds would be peaceful beasts, like the ones back in Navarene. Not so. These have somehow learned some tactics to defend themselves from predators and domesticators, and are currently kicking our collective asses.
It has been painful, but after 5 months of studying this flock, they have started to understand that you're not trying to harm them. They have suffered much through this drought, and their numbers are low. Will you help them, or stay apart?
There are good boys, and there are broken hounds. Your flock of starved blood barms is being attacked by a pack of about 30 hounds. The nearby stream is dry, the grass is almost dead, the trees have almost given up. What will you do?
"Join the goldgleam miners!", they said. "See the world!", they said. Turns out this involved seeing only this particular bit of the world, and getting hit and bit by giant butterflies. Pretty, though.
It started with your pack animals. You found weird wounds on the bleating aneen. Then it spread to the seskii, Malout, and you saw red. Finally, you noticed the markings on the ground, and when you dug, there they were. Hundreds of cocoons.
You had one problem: you were fighting a huge callerail. Slavering fangs, so many. Iron plates hitting you.
You recall that you did wonder what "they reproduce asexually" meant. Until you saw this beast split into two. You now have two problems.
Ok, son, this is the time to tell you about the great city of Tsigana Lys. There, life was sacred. They managed to harvest the lifeforce of the planet, coursed it through volunteers from the Cirog tribe, to power everything. Cirog were transformed...
You already loathed the Convergence, even without knowing their plan to harness wild cragworms to tunnel below cities they want gone. Now... it's not personal. It's important.
You entered the forest looking for a friend, Tefánia, who went missing a few months ago. You found her, and her friends. They are now your friends. And now you fight for them, with them. This is their land, this is their life, this is their blood.
The prior world that came up with these constructs ended because they thought they could "make them bigger. We have safeguards."
You could perhaps ask the Octopi for more information. Good luck getting that answer, though.
ł-83 had not "gone mad", thank you very much. "Weighty" was just afraid, and angry, as you'd be if you were lost and alone, millions of years from your home. You, too, would sometimes kick a rock, break a statue reminding you of those times.
It's there. It's... sleeping. Only a few lights flicker. And something is telling you to enter it, to find out. This could be the last of you. Or the start.
Somehow, they salute you. Then they slowly approach, and start coiling around you, their body flickering with a reddish glow. You start remembering things you haven't lived yet. They whisper, and you don't understand, but you know.
People used to think ghost crabs's motive to attack was "hunger for flesh". Until we found their city. Built from silica webs, carcasses and deep stone, its palaces and staircases would be a sight to behold, if one could actually see in the depths.
They wanted sport. They could have tamed Ithsyns and organized racing contests. Instead, they chose to build arenas, and throw prisoners and undesirables against a pack of hungry beasts.
Who is the actual monster?
You thought you knew how to face them: in the datasphere. You didn't expect that a creature that taps into the 'sphere to find prey would actually know how to use the datasphere to fight you. In retrospect...
"Laak. Why did it have to be laak?" you ponder as you try to wade in a filthy sewer under the lair of the Mañalich, heaps of these viscous creatures slithering around you. You hate the gorram laaks.
You found an ancient manuscript that posits Margr aren't naturally savage and bloodthirsty; they've been infected with a terrible mind control virus. Now you wonder if you could end that menace.
It could be nonsense. It could be true, though.
Instead of trying to pass them and getting your ass handed to you by the two guards, you've spent weeks trying to communicate with them. You have built a small vocabulary of sentences, all around the concept of "staying out".
You had the bright idea to try and saturate the mesomeme with mental energy. It only made it bigger. You go, girl. Nice try.
Now, do you have any idea what to do about the enormous pincers and the heads screaming "I got blisters on my whiskers!"?
Murdens are metaphors for humans:
- They annoy other species when they communicate
- They are paranoid, cruel, selfish, their nature is duplicitous and scheming.
Dammit, Círlon, could you stop peeking over my shoulder? It's bad enough when people with an actual neck do it. . . . Look, I'm sorry. I'm not used to this. It's unsettling. Still, I shouldn't have. You are who you are.
(wrong on so many levels, I had to fight a boss or two)
I'm on the run from my wife and kid, yes. I've traveled through so many towns, people despising me all the while. And I may deserve it. I may deserve this death.
(Nibovians are definitely not for everybody. Tread very, very carefully).
Imagine being built to fight the war between the Borg and the Mongolian Federation. Imagine being given intelligence, purpose, weaponry. Imagine getting buried by a rock slide for millions of years before even starting your T.O.D.
Nevermind that they should be called "Dischi". How do they think. They're invisible when seen from the side. So where are their organs. What even. Just... Just cover yourselves. And make the cover look metal. Plus, it looks badass.
The void seeker felt them akin. They too lived under cloaks, in hiding. They too will never be completely understood by other people. So she wanted to learn from them. Not directly, perhaps, but she brought them cyphers, and watched.
The feel of riding a Raster over the wine-coloured sea is beyond our words. But always remember: they are not tamed. They endure our sonic prods. And sometimes they get tired of us.
[Ignoring a skull that clearly shows eye sockets bc that way lies madness]
We are not safe. Ok, yes, that was with the Jiraskar. We are still not safe. These creatures cannot see, and yet they hunt us like laak in an amphor.
I guess it may look "weird" to you, but I assure you, they do wonders with my hair. And the feeling of having every dead cell, every bit of dust cleansed thoroughly is divine. Once you get used to it, yes.
He panted in the pitch dark, exhausted, but sure he had outrun them. He'd flailed, at first, angry and desperate at these creatures that could see him plain as day. Then he'd run.
He felt the tentacle brush against his skin, and started crying slowly.
The villagers of Castle Velasco have built the palisade around their town allowing for scutimorphs. This way they get protection and pest control for free, and the animals get to feed easily.
People have started naming the scuts closest to them.
You've seen these good boys and girls everywhere. The taverns named after them. The statues to loyal seskii, fallen protecting a town from a margr horde.
Now you found poaching vermin trying to farm their crystals. 40 seskii corpses lying in the field.
There's no feeling quite like the pounding of your heart in the cold and the trampling of snow underfoot. Well, there is one: riding a loper over the Limne Crags. They and you eventually become a higher being, a sentience that lives in the stone.
(I find a big mismatch bt the flavor text, and the stats. Flavor text puts these on a "deadly trap" level for starting characters. 4 damage and a level 3 roll says otherwise. But I digress.)
Ghoan Torkun was always thinking one or two steps beyond the possible. This time, she wanted to build an iron silk factory, harnessing these creatures for great value. She pictured spinnerets, all sorts of devices, all of them unlikely, sadly.
Stratharian War Moths
War. War never changes. And we never learn. Queen Armalu's generavians are attempting to add moths to her armies against the Gaians. What could go wrong?
Yes, the same thing that made Stratharians disappear. That could go wrong.
As the teeth and the tentacles prey on you, the flapping overpowering your senses, you had a last instant to ponder if you really, really needed an omelette that bad.
The true origin of thumans is lost to time. Some think that they were once humans, but were punished for some forgotten transgression. Unlike many abhumans they didn't become hostile to our species. That is an actual wonder.
"We couldn't get the nice ultraterrestrials. No. We got a beast that's all teeth and tentacles, and eats anything" The silence was heavy around Kait. Soimo started to reply, but Kait went on "anything. ANYTHING".
You swore you'd bring Kataroi back home. You didn't expect to find his corpse impaled on a slavering beast's spined back. The trills it is making sound gleeful. It wants you, too. You'll be a fine shield, too, just like Kataroi.
You may wonder why people of the Ninth World don't believe in the magic of names. It's because it's hard to trust a system of magic where your name is important when a dragon can just pluck it from your mind.
You may have wondered how a creature could fly with five wings or walk with seven legs. The answer is radial symmetry. They look like flowers. Beautiful, deadly golden flowers. They do lend a beautiful glow to the broken portal, don't they?
(I honestly dislike most everything about their description)
They move weirdly fast for their shape, pinning me with a ferocity I didn't expect. I'm only able to tell this tale because Teria here got the drop on'em and pulled me out. Lost the Xahir there.
AZAB, the writing says on the wall. In these days of civil unrest, the order-keepers of Qi are increasingly associated with the misgovernment of their superiors, and the goodwill of the people for them has drained. A few have been destroyed or burned.
[image credit:Bear Weiter. TM and © 2019 Monte Cook Games, LLC]